Jeanette  McDonald  Raymond     3~ 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Je&nette  MacDon&ld 


GREAT  WORKS  OF  MUSIC 


GREAT  WORKS 

OF 

MUSIC 

[SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING] 
BY 

PHILIP  H.  GOEPP 

Three  Volumes  in  One 


GARDEN  CITY  PUBLISHING  CO.,  INC. 
GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 


FIRST  VOLUME 

COPYRIGHT,  1897,  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT,  1925,  BY  PHILIP  H.  GOEPP 

SECOND  VOLUME 
COPYRIGHT,  1902,  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

THIRD  VOLUME 
COPYRIGHT,  1913,  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


PRINTED    IN    UNITED   STATES   OF   AMERICA 


TO 

MRS.  A.  J.  D.  DIXON 

WHO    ENCOURAGED    THE    LECTURES 

FROM   WHICH    IT   GREW 

THIS    BOOK 

IS 
DEDICATED 


PREFACE 

book  must  stand  its  own  defence,  which  lies 
in  the  fulfilment,  not  in  the  words  of  the 
promise. 

There  is,  at  the  outset,  no  value  whatever  in 
a  mere  theoretic  exposition  of  themes  and  de- 
velopment. Undoubtedly  the  subjective  in- 
tensity of  the  impression  is  strongly  to  be 
reckoned  with.  But  there  must  be  the  bal- 
ance, the  rein  which  resists  allegory  run  riot. 

In  such  a  view  is  the  true  mirror  of  the 
master.  It  is  an  unfailing,  perfect  test.  From 
such  a  quiet,  all-surveying  study,  as  one  looks 
at  a  painting  standing  off,  it  is  possible  to  see 
the  pervading  quality,  if  it  is  there,  or  to  de- 
tect its  lack.  The  beauty  will  ever  appear 
more  clearly,  or  the  faultiness,  the  meretricious 
deceit,  the  patched  pretence  of  homogeneous 
whole. 

Another  word  about  the  "  meaning"  of  the 
symphonies.  In  the  title  this  word  has  a 
negative  intent,  quite  as  strong  as  the  positive. 
The  book  is  meant  to  restrain  the  wrong  in- 
terpretation, as  to  urge  the  right.  True  listen- 
ing lies  in  the  balance  of  intense  enjoyment 
and  clear  perception.  There  must  be  no  cloud- 
ing by  the  one,  nor  too  much  interference  of 


PREFACE 

translating  thought.  In  a  simple  setting  forth 
of  a  serious  enjoyment  will  be  all  the  "mean- 
ing" that  the  master  will  claim  for  his  work,  or 
the  musician  for  his  art.  But  to  tell  just  how 
far  the  music  gives  the  spirit  of  the  master 
were  idle  in  a  preface,  as  it  is  the  purpose  of 
the  book. 

Thus  the  aim  is  primarily  to  set  forth  the 
impression  of  each  of  certain  chosen  sympho- 
nies, and  through  them  to  get,  at  first  hand,  a 
clear  glimpse  of  the  individuality  of  each  of 
the  great  masters.  Secondarily,  it  is  intended 
to  suggest,  by  the  mode  presented,  an  atti- 
tude in  the  listener  which  will  increase  his 
enjoyment  by  an  intelligent  perception  of  the 
intent  of  the  master,  or  which,  for  critical  pur- 
poses, may  serve  in  testing  a  new  work.  An 
ultimate  object,  which  it  is  not  intended  to 
pursue  categorically,  is  the  suggestion  of  an 
underlying  purpose  in  the  art,  and,  similarly, 
of  its  scope,  wherein  will  be  involved  certain 
incidental  questions  of  the  connection  between 
the  art-work  and  the  intent  or  unconscious 
thought,  the  personal  tone,  even  the  morale,  of 
the  master. 


FIRST    SERIES 
CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PREFACE  7 

CHAPTER  I. — Introductory      13 

CHAPTER  II. —  The  Symphony 23 

CHAPTER  III. — Haydn 42 

Symphony  in  D  (Peters  Ed.  No.  3). 

Symphony  in  E>?  (Peters  Ed.  No.  l). 

CHAPTER  IV. — Mozart 68 

Symphony  in  G  Minor. 

Symphony  in  C  Major  ("Jupiter"), 

CHAPTER  V. — Beethoven 94 

Symphony  No.  3  (Eroica) .  loo 

CHAPTER  VI. — Beethoven  (Continued). 

Seventh  Symphony 125 

Fifth  Symphony 147 

CHAPTER  VII. — Schubert 177 

Unfinished  Symphony 193 

Symphony  in  C  Major 201 

CHAPTER  VIII. — Schumann 248 

CHAPTER  IX. — Schumann  (Continued). 

Second  Symphony  (in  C  Major) 2/0 


CONTENTS 

PACK 

CHAPTER  X. — Schumann  (Continued). 

Third  Symphony  ("  Rhine") 310 

CHAPTER  XI. — Mendelssohn 342 

Italian  Symphony 354 

CHAPTER  XII.— Brahms 366 

CHAPTER  XIII. — Brahms  (Continued). 

Second  Symphony 377 


SECOND  SERIES 
i 

CONTENTS 

PACK 

PREFATORY 7 

CHAPTER  I. — Mozart 13 

Symphony  in  E  Flat. 
CHAPTER  II. — Beethoven 34 

First  Symphony. 
CHAPTER  III. — Beethoven  (Continued). 

Second  Symphony 59 

CHAPTER  IV. — Beethoven  (Continued). 

Fourth  Symphony.      (The   Poet  of  Pathos  and 

Humor) 87 

CHAPTER  V. — Beethoven  (Continued). 

Eighth  Symphony.      (An  Epic  of  Humor)  .      .      1 1 1 
CHAPTER  VI. — Beethoven  (Continued). 

Sixth   (Pastoral)    Symphony.       (Tonal    Depic- 
tion)     233 

CHAPTER  VII. — Beethoven  (Concluded). 

Ninth  (Choral)   Symphony.      (The  Final  Need 

of  Words) 153 

CHAPTER  VIII. — Schumann 195 

First  Symphony,  in  B  Flat 195 

Fourth  Symphony,  in  D  Minor 210 


CONTENTS 

PACE 

CHAPTER  XU.—SiteRtu 

A  Finnish  Symphony 178 

CHAPTER  XI IL 

Bohemian  Symphonies .      .  189 

Smetana.     Symphonic  Poem:  "The  Moldau  River"    .  190 

Dvorak.     Symphony:  "From  the  New  World"      .      .  195 

CHAPTER  XIV.— The  Earlier  Bruckner 208 

Second  Symphony 2lo 

Fourth  (Romantic)  Symphony 211 

Fifth  Symphony 214 

CHAPTER  XV.— The  Later  Bruckner 215 

Ninth  Symphony 218 

CHAPTER  XVI.— Hugo  Wolff 230 

"  Penthesilea."     Symphonic  Poem 230 

CHAPTER  XVII.— Mahler 243 

Fifth  Symphony 244 

CHAPTER  XVIII.— Richard  Strauss 

Symphonic  Poems         261 

"Death  and  Transfiguration" 263 

"Don  Juan" 273 

"Till  Eulenspiegel's  Merry  Pranks" 278 

"Sinfonia  Domestica" 288 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Italian  Symphonies       .           "...  299 

Sgambati.     Symphony  in  D  major 300 

.  MartuccL     Symphony  in  D  minor 301 

CHAPTER  XX. — Edward  Elgar 

An  English  Symphony 308 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Symphonies  in  America 321 

Henry  Hadley.     Symphony  No.  3 321 

Gustav  Strube.     Symphony  in  D  minor       .      .      .      .'329 

Chad  wick.     Suite  Symphonique 342 

Loeffler.     "The  Devil's  Round."    Symphonic  Poem  351 


GREAT  WORKS  OF  MUSIC 

SYMPHONIES 
AND   THEIR   MEANING 

I 

INTRODUCTORY 

THERE  are  some  truths  concerning  the  right 
attitude  of  listening  to  music,  which  had  best 
be  mentioned  at  the  outset.  They  are  not  to 
be  proved,  like  a  theorem,  in  the  pages  which 
follow ;  there  is  no  such  deliberate  or  definite 
intent.  On  the  contrary,  they  seem  almost 
axiomatic ;  they  are  fundamental  in  all  dis- 
cussion and  enjoyment  of  music.  But  they 
have  been  so  long  forgotten  that  they  have  a 
new  look.  The  present  generation  may  weii 
be  reminded  of  them. 

In  so  far  as  they  will  be  regarded  as  necessa- 
rily true,  they  may  stand  as  the  landmarks  of 
the  view,  here  presented,  of  the  great  master- 
pieces. In  so  far  as  they  may  be  challenged, 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

will  the  first  step  ever  come,  if  our  taste  in  the 
original  condition  of  ignorance  is  to  be  the 
touchstone  ?  There  can  be  no  progress,  either 
in  argument  or  in  fact. 

The  fault  lies,  in  reality,  in  that  phase  of 
modern  art  which  casts  to  the  winds  sound 
principle,  clear  process,  and  rests  all  in  the 
sensational  and  emotional  effect,  in  utter  in- 
difference to  the  true  or  the  false,  the  right  or 
wrong  of  the  workmanship. 

We  do  not  intend,  surely,  to  let  music  be  to 
us  a  mere  narcotic,  to  affect  us  in  a  passive,  un- 
reasoning state.  Therefore,  I  say,  now  more 
than  ever  there  is  need  for  true  leaders,  to  save 
us  from  the  false ;  but  far  more  still,  for  each 
to  become  his  own  critic, — to  master  the  prin- 
ciples which  underlie  true  art,  and  the  right 
attitude  of  reception  and  of  perception. 

In  the  classical  past  it  was  our  good  fortune 
to  have  none  but  true  leaders.  We  learned  to 
trust  them  unconsciously  as  well  as  implicitly. 
But  with  later  democratic  stirring  there  came 
inevitable  demagoguism.  Men  appealed  over 
the  heads  of  those  who  had  the  true,  the  saner 
intuition  to  the  ruder  mob  to  whom  clear 
thought  was  naught,  sensational  amusement 

16 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

all.  Democratic  as  we  must  be  in  govern- 
ment, there  is  no  doubt  that  the  bursts  of 
popular  will  throughout  the  nineteenth  century 
have  had  a  sinister  effect  upon  art.  The  lower 
instincts  with  the  lower  classes  have  broken 
away  from  the  higher.  Within  the  right 
meaning,  the  true  democrat  in  government  not 
only  can,  he  must  be  the  true  aristocrat  in  art. 
And  thus  we  may  explain  much  of  what  is  com- 
monly charged  of  late  against  art,  under  such 
words  as  degeneration  and  decadence.  Our  only 
cure  is,  as  we  must  act  as  a  democracy,  to 
have  the  feeling  and  thought  of  true  aristoc- 
racy. 

We  must  pay  art,  in  general  and  special, 
the  respect  of  an  intelligent  attitude,  which  we 
can  only  acquire  by  mastering  its  process,  the 
mode  of  its  working,  and  its  intent.  A  cen- 
tury ago  all  this  could  not  have  been  seriously 
thought  in  need  even  of  suggestion. 

The  second  premise  relates  to  a  question 
which  has  always  raged  with  much  uncer- 
tainty: the  connection  between  the  master's 
thought  and  his  art-work.  How  far  does 
he  translate*  a  "meaning"  into  his  music? 
How  far  has  he  an  intent  that  must  be  re- 

2  17 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

garded  ?  Or  is  it  merely  a  pretty  amusement, 
a  delight  of  the  senses,  by  nice  combinations 
of  beauty  in  tone,  in  color,  and  in  outline? 
And  this  latter  alternative  cannot  be  disre- 
garded, when  it  seems  to  be  held  by  one  who 
is  accounted  the  greatest  German  critic  of  the 
day.  Gradually,  however,  the  truth  is  break- 
ing, that,  while  the  apparent  purpose  is  that  of 
mere  delight,  the  true  essence  of  music  is  its  un- 
conscious subjective  betrayal  of  a  dominant  feeling, 
in  contrast  with  the  conscious,  objective  depic- 
tion in  poetry  and  in  the  plastic  arts.  At  once 
the  charm  and  mystery  is  the  stress  on  the 
unconsciousness  of  purpose.  And  yet  it  is 
not  strange.  Throughout  life  consciousness 
of  action  or  of  utterance  is  not  only  not  need- 
ful ;  its  effect  is  actually  weakening  as  a  use- 
less diversion  of  the  mind.  It  is  this  very 
absence  of  self-observation  which  gives  music 
its  overwhelming  power  as  a  means  of  expres- 
sion. This  is  in  harmony,  too,  with  that 
modern  experience'  which  believes  more  and 
more  in  personal  force  and  influence,  which, 
without  materialism,  believes  less  and  less  in 
the  virtue  of  definite  dogma. 

In  a  talk  with  a  friend,  the  spoken  word  is 
18 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

not  essential,  rather  the  personal  attitude  un- 
consciously betrayed.  So  in  a  symphony  of 
Beethoven  the  ultimate  purpose  is  the  utter- 
ance of  the  high  thought  or  feeling  of  a  great 
man.  However  unconscious  this  aim  may  be, 
I  think  it  may  justly  be  called  the  true  intent 
of  the  master. 

It  may  be  thought,  however,  that  there  is 
here  too  little  stress  on  the  art  proper,  in  its 
perfection  of  form  and  detailed  beauty.  The 
answer  is,  perhaps  subtle :  between  the  in- 
tensity and  nobility  of  the  feeling  which  domi- 
nates the  poet,  and  its  artistic  expression  is  a 
close  and  curious  connection,  and,  further,  an 
analogy.  As,  after  all,  the  apparent,  the  con- 
scious purpose  is  a  beautiful  work  of  art,  the 
nobility  of  the  poet  is  measured  by  the  nobility 
of  his  work  ;  his  clearness  of  vision,  by  the  per- 
fection of  detail.  The  truth  is,  a  high  feeling 
compels  a  great  utterance ;  and  conversely, 
where  there  is  a  beautiful  expression  there  must 
be  nobility  of  the  prompting  thought.  Thus 
the  greatest  poets  will  have  the  purest  form.  In 
proportion  as  the  feeling  or  thought  is  intense, 
its  utterance  will  be  sustained  in  a  work  of 
high  structure.  A  true  poet  does  not  roar 

'9 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

himself  into  a  state,  in  order  to  convey  his 
emotion ;  that  is  not  the  kind  the  world  cares 
to  hear.  Therefore  it  follows,  of  course,  that 
the  feeling  at  the  source  is  only  reached  by  a 
perception  of  the  beauty  of  the  art-work.  And 
the  object  must  always  be  so  to  study  the 
master-works  as  to  feel  most  keenly  the  un- 
conscious intent,  the  mood-purpose  of  the 
creator. 

It  is  clear  how  the  first  premise  leads  to  the 
second  as  a  natural  preliminary,  and  how  each 
reinforces  the  other.  So  the  third  will  prove 
but  a  larger  view  of  the  second ;  and  all  are 
but  different  phases  of  the  whole  truth. 

In  poetry  we  do  not  hesitate  to  regard  the 
moral  quality  of  the  poet.  In  music  this 
seems  never  to  be  thought  o£  Yet  in  music 
this  personal  tone  of  the  poet  is  more  potent 
far  than  in  the  other  arts ;  it  is  more  subtly 
conveyed,  and  needs  most  to  be  watched.  All 
moral  influence  is  exerted,  we  know,  not  so 
much  logically  or  intellectually,  as  emo- 
tionally. Music,  which  affects  the  feelings 
most  powerfully,  most  easily  conveys  the  per- 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

sonal  influence  of  the  poet  to  the  hearers. 
We  all  know  the  moral  force  of  companion- 
ship, of  mere  neighborhood.  Yet  how  could 
this  personal  tone  be  conveyed  more  directly 
than  by  a  word  uttered  in  living  figures  of 
sound. 

The  mystery,  of  course,  is  how  we  are  to 
detect  this  moral  quality,  where  there  are  no 
tell-tale  words  and  story.  Impossible,  however, 
as  it  is  to  sum  up  in  systematic  philosophy, 
nothing  is  so  clear  to  the  persistent  and  open- 
minded  listener  in  both  phases,  the  good  and 
the  bad,  the  moral  and  unmoral.  I  have 
pointed  above  to  the  curious  connection  or 
analogy  between  honesty  of  art  and  honesty 
of  feeling.  It  is  equally  true  between  the  dis- 
honesty of  the  one  and  of  the  other.  In  an 
unbiassed  and  intelligent  attitude,  no  category 
of  evidence  in  court  is  clearer  than  from  the 
four  corners  of  the  document  of  symphony  or 
opera.  For  thoroughly  following  out  such  a 
plan  it  might  be  well  to  embrace  works  of 
both  kinds.  It  must  follow  that  if  we  glow  in 
tune  with  the  high  aspiration  of  a  Beethoven, 
we  must  be  ready  to  discern  the  trick  of  the 
false  prophet.  But  in  a  work  like  the  present 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  negative  phase  of  criticism  cannot  be  more 
than  suggested. 

It  is  just  here  that  musical  criticism  has 
been  lacking.  It  has  followed  an  even  tenor 
of  so-called  catholic  tolerance  of  good  and 
bad,  of  the  false  and  the  true.  Again,  it  has 
lost  all  thought,  it  has  taken  no  account  what- 
ever, of  any  element  beyond  the  mere  aesthetic. 
In  fact,  it  is  the  moral  that  rouses  the  greatest 
enthusiasm,  in  art  as  well  as  in  life.  The 
charming,  after  all,  gives  mere  temporary 
pleasure.  It  is  precisely  in  so  far  as  the  moral 
element  has  been  forgotten  that  music  has  not 
been  highly  regarded. 

Thus,  then,  in  the  attitude  of  the  intelligent 
point  of  view  first  insisted  on,  we  see,  from  the 
second,  how  the  intent,  the  feeling  of  the 
master  is  reflected  from  the  particular  work; 
and  finally,  from  the  third,  how,  from  a  broader 
view  even  than  the  second  (rather  from  a  suc- 
cession of  such  impressions),  the  morale  of  the 
master  shines  clear  throughout  his  art. 


II 

THE   SYMPHONY 

ART,  it  would  seem,  begins  its  career,  like 
man,  by  leaning  on  another.  Thus,  sculpture 
was  first  subordinate  to  architecture.  Paint- 
ing, in  turn,  was  the  foster-child  of  sculpture, 
in  the  beginning  merely  tracing  outlines  and 
features,  much  like  an  infant  writing  with 
guided  hand. 

Music  in  Greece  followed  slavishly  the 
metre  of  the  poetry.*  In  the  early  church,  be- 
fore Gregory,  the  words  of  the  liturgy  were 
intoned  with  complete  subservience  to  the 
rhythm  of  the  verse,  so  that  agreement  of 
singing  was  possible  only  when  the  chorus  fol- 
lowed the  arbitrary  leader. 

It  is  most  valuable  to  see  clearly  the  final 

*  With  all  the  "discoveries"  of  Pindaric  odes,  nothing 
has  ever  established  the  fact  of  a  Greek  conception  of 
musical  rhythm  independent  of  that  of  the  verse.  Greek 
"  music"  lacked  the  first  requisite  for  a  tonal  art. 

2"? 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

evolution  of  the  independent  art  of  absolute 
instrumental  music  as  the  latest  link  in  this 
chain.  Leaning  on  the  words  and  story  of  the 
drama,  music  developed,  on  the  stage  of  the 
opera,  melody,  and  its  accompaniment  in  tones 
colored  by  various  blending  and  contrasting  in- 
struments. She  was  preparing  her  pallet.  In 
the  church,  following  the  lead  of  the  service, 
music  was  exploring  all  the  possibilities  of  poly- 
phonic combination  and  of  architectural  com- 
plexity by  algebraic  computation.  But  in 
neither  church  service  nor  in  opera  was  she 
progressing  unaided.  Of  course,  walking  with 
a  cane  is  different  from  depending  on  a  guiding 
parent.  So  differs  the  music  of  Paliestrina  from 
that  of  Ambrose.  But  even  in  the  great  Bach's 
works  music  had  not  thrown  away  all  her 
supports.  She  first  learned  to  tread  her  inde- 
pendent course,  speaking  her  message  purely  in 
her  own  language  of  tones  unaided  by  words, 
when  she  lisped  the  first  sonata,  which,  in 
orchestral  dress,  is  the  symphony. 

It   must   be   remembered    that    the    entire 

growth  of  the   art  of  music,  and  what  was 

really   the   slow   manufacture  of  its  elements 

and  forms,  was  wrought  within  the  Church. 

24 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

This  development  began  when  to  the  unison 
chant  was  added  the  servile  accompaniment  of 
a  second  voice,  keeping  always  its  unaltered 
respectful  distance.  It  ended  when  all  the 
changes  of  fugai  counterpoint  had  been  rung 
with  mathematical  ingenuity.  But  until  mod- 
ern centuries  there  had  not  been  a  thought  of 
music  without  words,  of  unsung  music.  When 
the  absurdly  artificial  forms  were  abandoned 
by  mutinous  singers,  the  organ  took  the  place 
of  the  unwilling  voice,  and  invited  further 
composition  for  its  special  performance. 

But  this  had  nothing  in  common  with 
secular  instrumental  music  and  its  origin. 
For  the  elements,  we  must  go  back  to  the 
strange  attempts  at  opera  by  Italian  amateurs. 
The  very  convenient  date  of  the  first  opera — 
1600 — is  an  excellent  landmark  in  gauging 
the  growth  of  unsung  secular  music, — the  year 
when  Peri's  "  Eurydice"  was  produced  in 
Florence.  It  is  in  the  formless  preludes  and 
interludes  of  the  players  that  the  germ  of  the 
symphony  lies.  The  first  conception  of  flow- 
ing cantabile  melody,  which  is  the  very  fibre 
and  tissue  of  every  movement,  came  in  the 
early  opera.  (There  is  absolutely  no  kinship 
25 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

between  this  melody  and  the  fugal  theme  of  the 
church  school.)  With  these  the  dance,  of  ob- 
scure origin,  completes  the  foundation  on 
which  sonatas  and  symphonies  were  reared. 

If  we  enter  the  forge  in  which  these  ma- 
terials were  being  welded  into  the  great  forms 
of  the  symphony, — in  other  words,  if  we  study 
the  precursors  of  the  masters, — we  find,  indeed, 
little  promise  of  intellectual  significance,  or,  for 
that  matter,  of  pleasurable  amusement.  But, 
in  art,  periods  of  exclusively  formal  growth 
always  lack  imaginative  power.  It  is  like 
latent  heat,  when  ice  changes  to  water.  Great 
men,  it  would  seem,  are  content  with  the  form 
they  find,  hiding  the  lines  with  their  fulness  of 
thought.  Shallower  minds,  sensitive  to  popu- 
lar demand,  tinker  at  new  devices  of  outward 
novelty.  Thus,  Sebastian  Bach  did  not  find 
the  sonata  sufficiently  perfected.  Haydn  was 
the  first  master  to  approve.  Therefore,  in  a 
review  of  the  history  of  musical  thought  rather 
than  of  musical  structure,  it  may  fairly  be  said 
that  the  sonata  and  the  whole  school  of  secu- 
lar instrumental  music  did  not  begin  before 
Haydn. 

The  analogy  between  Bach  and  the  seculai 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

masters  is  striking.  In  his  earlier  generation 
he  found  nothing  but  the  strict  forms  of  the 
church  school.  He  gave  them  their  essential 
artistic  purpose ;  he  crowned  their  development 
by  endowing  them  with  the  highest  expression 
of  religious  feeling.  When  a  master  thus 
reaches  the  greatest  height,  a  lower  level  must 
be  started  in  another  direction,  leading  to  a 
second  master. 

If  we  take  a  survey  of  this  new  stream  of 
worldly  composition — melodies  with  artificial 
accompaniment,  digressions  of  rippling  scales 
or  tripping  arpeggios  and  suddenly  intruding 
crashes  of  full  chords — and  contrast  it  with 
what  is  found  in  the  church  school  with  its 
precise,  dignified,  and  elaborate  structure  of 
voices,  independent  in  melody,  yet  interdepen- 
dent in  harmony,  the  question  comes,  What 
new  spirit  moves  here?  How  can  there  be, 
almost  at  the  same  time,  two  opposite  phases 
of  the  same  art,  both  honored  by  the  greatest 
masters  ? 

Clearly,  here  is  the  latest,  though  not  the 
weakest,  wave  of  the  Renaissance  pulse.  The 
same  rebellion  against  the  all-absorbing  intel- 
lectual domination  of  the  Church,  the  same 
27 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

resistless  wave  of  earthly  feeling  and  its  ex- 
pression, apparent  in  painting  and  in  the  litera- 
tures of  England,  France,  and  Italy,  is  here 
manifest  in  the  youngest  of  the  arts.  Why 
the  movement  is  so  late  in  music  need  not 
be  discussed  beyond  again  saying  that  the  art 
was  jealously  and  exclusively  fostered  by  the 
Church.  All  its  forms,  its  whole  framework 
had  been  devised  solely  for  worship.  An  en- 
tirely new  garb  must  be  created  before  it  could 
venture  from  the  cloister  into  the  gay  world 
without  great  awkwardness  and  stiffness.  Much 
depth  of  feeling  or  intellectual  emphasis  must 
not  be  expected  of  the  first  century  of  this 
new  phase.  The  early  works  show  their  re- 
actionary origin  by  utter  frivolity  and  shallow- 
ness.  Until  an  actual  fitting  form  was  ob- 
tained, there  was  a  constant  striving  after  a 
satisfaction  of  this  very  need,  a  self-conscious 
kind  of  emphasis  of  mere  sound  ;  the  composer 
sought  to  fill  in  as  many  black  notes  as  pos- 
sible. 

The  beginning  of  Haydn's  career  marks  the 

final  attainment  of  this  form,  and  at  the  same 

time  a  sudden  spring  of  true  poetic  feeling. 

The  result  was  what  is  commonly  called  th«. 

28 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

sonata,  which  is  really  what  we  are  consider- 
ing; for  a  symphony  is  nothing  else  than  a 
sonata  written  for  the  orchestra.  In  the  light 
of  the  absolute  newness  of  unsung  music  is 
seen  the  fitness  of  the  name  "sonata,"  that 
which  is  merely  sounded,  in  contrast  with  that 
which  is  sung,  the  "cantata."  Nowhere,  I 
venture  to  say,  in  any  phase  of  art,  is  the  shock 
greater  than  of  this  burst  from  the  sombre, 
confined,  careful,  intellectual  process  of  the 
cloister  to  the  free,  irresponsible  fancy  dancing 
first  over  the  meadows  and  in  the  forests,  then 
into  the  life  of  men,  the  turmoil  and  the 
triumph  of  war,  the  romance  and  ecstasy  of 
human  affection. 

It  is  clear,  then,  why  the  expected  order — 
first  of  the  less  defined,  second  of  the  more 
clearly  significant  phase  of  the  art — should  be 
reversed.  Within  the  cloister  music  had 
reached  a  high  and  complex  power  of  expres- 
sion of  those  feelings  which  were  there  sanc- 
tioned. Without,  all  was  new  and  vague ; 
there  were  no  words  or  forms  of  expression  for 
the  new  life.  It  must  begin  with  the  ABC 
of  a  new  language.  To  condemn  the  first 

fruits  of  this  stage  for  lack  of  definiteness  of 
29 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

meaning  would  be  to  misunderstand  the  very 
purpose  of  all  art.  While  definite  language  is 
not  impossible  to  art,  this  is  not  its  chief  func- 
tion ;  no  more  is  mere  beauty  of  outline.  If 
a  sentiment  be  expressed  and  transmitted,  the 
medium  of  its  transmission  will  be  entitled  to 
its  place  as  an  art  of  form.  The  language  of 
prose  has  not  the  power  thus  to  express  and 
transmit  all  sentiment,  though  it  may  entitle  its 
field  in  a  rough  sort  of  way.  What  prose  can- 
not, the  other  arts  must  do,  each  in  its  pecu- 
liar region,  not,  perhaps,  without  encroaching 
mutually.  Each  art,  beginning  with  primordial 
feelings,  will  translate  more  and  more  delicate 
shades  in  a  constantly  refining  process,  the 
form  always  reacting  on  the  sentiment  and  sug- 
gesting an  advance. 

This  must  account  for  the  vagueness  of  the 
earlier  great  works  for  instruments.  But  even 
in  Haydn  the  pastoral  element,  the  poetry  of 
nature,  discovered  anew,  is  unmistakable,  as  is 
the  peculiar  playfulness  of  his  humor.  In  fact, 
the  appearance  of  humor  of  any  kind  in  music 
in  the  eighteenth  century  is  as  absolutely  new 
as  anything  can  be  under  the  sun.  Imagine 
how  utterlv  inconceivable  it  would  have  been 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

to  the  long  line,  stretching  through  many  cen- 
turies, of  the  worthy  fosterers  of  music  in  the 
Church. 

The  sonata  was  said  by  a  German  critic  to 
be  intended  by  the  earliest  writers  to  show  in 
the  first  movement  what  they  could  do,  in  the 
second  what  they  could  feel,  in  the  last  how 
glad  they  were  to  have  finished.  The  sim- 
plicity of  this  interpretation — and  no  doubt  it 
is  accurate — emphasizes  the  vagueness  of  the 
real  sentiment.  In  the  hands  of  great  men 
the  form  very  soon  attained  a  much  more  dig- 
nified plan. 

In  technicalities  the  essence  is  often  lost. 
There  is  no  value  in  analysis  in  itself.  Yet 
a  clear  view  of  the  general  purpose  is  not 
dimmed  by  a  glance  at  those  elements  which 
have  in  them  more  than  mere  technical  value. 
The  question  is  not  merely  what  is  the  general 
purpose  of  the  symphony,  but  what  is  the 
special  value  of  the  accepted  model  in  carrying 
out  this  purpose.  And,  as  has  been  said 
above,  the  first  requisite  in  the  listener  is  an 
intelligent  grasp  of  the  work. 

In  short,  what  is  the  essential  of  the  much- 
mentioned  sonata  form  ;  of  the  outline  of  the 
3' 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

other  movements ;  indeed,  of  the  structure  of 
the  whole?  A  few  relentless  wherefores  will 
bring  us  to  the  right  point  of  attack.  Nor  can 
the  answer  lie  in  a  technical  statement  of 
theme,  of  development,  of  tonality,  and  so  on. 
But  the  one  clear  and  grateful  approach  is  by 
an  historic  view,  where  we  see  the  need — the 
real  raison  d'etre — of  each  cardinal  element. 

In  the  first  place,  the  main  stress  of  the  sym- 
phony— indeed,  of  most  absolute  music — is 
centred  on  what  is  called  the  sonata  form.  It 
is  the  mould  in  which  is  cast  the  first  move- 
ment :  the  serious  burst  of  aspiring  thought. 
The  second,  to  be  sure,  is  of  no  less  dignity. 
But  it  is  in  complete  contrast  with  the  stress 
and  strife,  the  stirring  progress  of  the  first.  It 
is  a  calm  lyric  utterance  from  the  high  level  to 
which  the  first  mood  has  ascended.  It  does 
not  need  the  discussion  of  the  other.  Sim- 
plicity of  statement  in  the  verses  of  a  song  is 
its  natural  utterance.  Nowhere  is  the  depth 
of  genius  of  the  highest  master  better  shown 
than  in  the  Andante, — that  profound,  broad 
sympathy  of  Beethoven,  distinct  from  the  stat- 
uesque pathos  of  Haydn,  or  the  stately  grace 
of  Mozart.  Here  was  reflected  Beethoven's 
32 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

highest  trait,  that  which  bound  men  to  him 
most  strongly.  In  the  third  phase  the  feeling 
of  relaxation  is  undoubted,  and,  fittingly,  the 
form,  even  in  the  highest  flights,  is  based  on 
the  dance.  The  mood  has  passed  from  the 
spirit's  stir  and  spring  through  pathos  to  humor. 
In  its  original  conception  this  effect  of  relief, 
of  restraint  from  the  tension  of  the  early  move- 
ments, was  continued  in  the  last.  A  form 
peculiarly  fitting  for  careless  joy  existed  in  the 
Rondo,  where  the  melody  appeared  and  van- 
ished with  graceful  interludes,  which  later  de« 
veloped  into  lesser  tunes.  Discussion  was  sup- 
planted by  a  constant,  playful  alternation  of 
the  various  melodies.  As  the  symphony  grew 
a  more  serious  utterance  of  poetic  feeling,  the 
last  movement  often  rose  to  a  second  climax; 
and — here  appears  the  meaning  of  form  and 
of  detail — the  rondo  yielded  then  to  the  Sonata 
type. 

What,  then,  was  this  sonata  form?  What 
are  the  elements  of  its  power  for  this  new  poetic 
expression  ? 

Again,  in  the, historic  view,  it  is  at  once 
amusing,  pathetic,  and  enlightening  to  see  the 
a  33 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

struggles  which  preceded  the  great  discover)-'. 
In  Bach's  time  the  approved  form  was  the 
suite  of  dances,  transplanted  from  the  itinerant 
street-players  to  the  new  clavichord  or  newer 
piano-forte.  At  best  this  was  a  mere  series  of 
unrelated  dances,  idealized,  to  be  sure,  with  ex- 
pansion and  polyphonic  treatment.  It  was  the 
holiday  music  of  the  learned  musician,  his  only 
secular  vent ;  and  it  afforded  the  special  form 
for  a  kind  of  public  tournament  between  rival 
players  and  composers.  But,  with  the  best  inten- 
tion to  be  worldly,  there  was  over  it  the  stern, 
ascetic,  intellectual  stamp  of  the  Church  spirit. 
What  was  the  reaction  of  treatment  which 
must  answer  the  reaction  of  secular  feeling  ? 

The  peculiar  quality,  as  in  the  strict  Church 
forms,  was  an  unrelieved  monothemism.  Im- 
pressed with  the  traditional  simple  theme  of 
counterpoint,  men  could  not  escape  it ;  they 
lacked  the  artistic  conception  of  the  dual  ele- 
ment, of  balance,  of  contrast.  The  mystery, 
the  strangeness,  is  that,  not  to  speak  of  the 
eventual  solution,  the  need  itself  was  not  clear. 
And  unless  we  can  see  the  very  need,  we  can- 
not grasp  the  full  meaning  of  the  sonata  and 
symphony. 

34 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

In  a  general  way,  it  was  felt,  there  must  be. 
rebellion  against  the  Church  process, — no  more 
learned  counterpoint ;  no  textual  theme  frugally 
sounded  without  harmonic  surroundings,  like 
the  verse  of  a  sermon ;  no  eternal  ringing  of 
its  relentless  burden,  like  the  doom  of  dogma 
without  a  hint  of  repose,  of  cadence, — on  and 
on,  the  voices  ever  multiplying  the  warning 
phrase  to  a  final  massive  climax  of  solemn 
architecture.  Away  with  it  all !  There  must 
be  no  taint  of  fugue  in  the  new  spirit.  The 
whole  machinery  of  church  forms  seemed  de- 
signed and  fitted  to  an  impersonal,  a  self- 
effaced  contemplation  of  high  dogmatic  truth 
of  the  utmost  solemnity.  Here,  out  of  the 
Church,  men  dare  to  be  happy  and  gay  in  their 
individual  joy  ;  they  dare  to  celebrate  the  woods 
and  the  green  things  of  the  earth.  They  want 
a  complete  summer  holiday  from  the  damp  air 
of  the  Church. 

Now  see  the  features  of  this  new  expression 
as  they  carry  out  this  new  feeling.  There 
must  be  a  better  and  simpler  meaning  for  our 
technical  big  words.  What  seems  the  first, 
the  most  significant,  the  most  potent,  is  a  clear 
sense  of  harmonic  residence,  what  the  musicians 

35 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

call  tonality,  as  against  the  gray  color,  in  the 
fugue,  of  a  key  vague  until  the  end.  Again,  it 
seems,  there  is  the  impulse  to  utter  a  sense  of 
worldly  repose,  in  defiance  of  the  constant 
strife  in  the  fugue,  which  knew  no  rest  until 
the  final  end. 

Nowhere  is  this  contrast  clearer  than  in  the 
piano  works  of  Sebastian  Bach  and  of  Do- 
menico  Scarlatti.  They  were  contemporaries, 
almost  to  the  year.  But  Scarlatti  had  caught 
the  earthly  spirit  in  sunny  Italy,  under  the  in- 
spiration of  his  father  Alessandro,  the  founder  of 
the  new  aria.  Bach,  somehow,  could  never  get 
clear  of  the  shadow  of  the  cloister.  With  the 
German  his  dance-moods  are  still  o'ercast  with 
the  pale  hue  of  meditation.  He  was  glancing 
out  of  doors  through  the  windows  of  his  study. 
The  Italian  was  roving  with  a  firm  foot  in  the 
fields ;  he  was  ringing  out  his  tintinnabulations 
with  clearest  note  of  tonal  serenity  and  cer- 
tainty,— still  always  the  same  one  tune.  He 
could  have  but  a  single  idea  at  a  time ;  no 
broad  sense  of  balance,  of  contrast,  of  perspec- 
tive. On  such  a  basis  there  could  never  rise  a 
structure  of  much  serious  dignity.  But  this  is 
not  all. 

36 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

We  must  see,  too,  the  strange  alternative- of 
the  qualities  of  Bach  and  of  Scarlatti:  of  vague 
reflection  and  of  clear  tonal  simplicity.  It 
seems  that  tonality  must  be  at  the  expense 
of  depth.  The  voices  were  borrowed  for 
harmonic  subservience,  and  must  cease  to  dis- 
cuss the  theme.  In  a  sense  they  were  de- 
graded from  counsellors  to  train-bearers.  So, 
in  an  ideal  sense,  there  was  a  temporary  loss 
of  dignity.  But  this  simplicity  was  after  all  a 
gain. 

So  far  the  elements  are  the  same  of  the  other 
secular  moulds,  of  the  song,  the  dance  and 
the  rondo.  We  have  not  yet  come  to  the 
final  typical  trait  of  the  strict  sonata.  It  was  a 
reconciliation  of  the  various  needs  :  first,  of  this 
tonality,  the  sense  of  certain  harmonic  loca- 
tion ;  second,  of  relief  from  monotony  of  single 
melody,  a  sense  of  duality  ;  finally,  of  a  quality 
which  had  been  too  completely  lost  with  the 
fugue. 

And  this  very  stirring  search  has  shown  what 
a  peculiar  place  the  fugue  filled.  Let  us  return, 
for  a  thought,  before  the  days  of  unsung  music. 
Our  art  is  still  walking  hand  in  hand  with  her 
older  sister  Poetry,  but  unmanageable,  restless. 

37 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

One  day  a  master  dreams  his  melody  for  the 
instrument  alone.  Now  it  is  clear  that  music 
must  somehow  atone  for  the  new  want  of 
words.  A  song  deprived  of  words  is  and  re- 
mains incomplete.  The  clear  meaning  is  gone, 
there  is  mere  vacant  beauty.  Here  begins  the 
stir  for  a  definite  language  of  pure  tones.  And 
this  is  significant,  too :  none  of  the  older  forms 
were  the  achievement  of  music  itself,  its  self- 
found  utterance.  They  are  foreign  ;  they  be- 
longed to  poetry,  like  the  song,  or  to  the 
dance,  like  the  minuet.  See,  therefore,  how 
this  new  sonata  form  is  actually  the  first  proper 
mode  of  expression  of  the  pure  art  of  music. 
//  says  something  in  mere  tones. 

From  another  point  of  view,  the  half-con- 
scious want  of  the  early  masters  in  their 
search  was  this :  they  were  dissatisfied  with 
mere  lyric  burst,  mere  singing  of  the  tune ; 
they  must  talk  about  it;  they  must  get  some- 
where. They  quickly  felt  that  melody  was, 
after  all,  mere  theme  or  text ;  there  was  no 
progress  until  you  discussed  it. 

This  element  of  discussion,  of  progress, 
which,  in  a  sense,  had  been  lost  in  the  fugue, 
now  achieved  in  a  novel  way,  was  the  crowning 
38 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

virtue  of  the  new  form  for  sonata  and  sym- 
phony. So  here  is  the  problem:  tg  express 
the  definiteness  which  had  been  lost  with  the 
words ;  to  go  beyond  mere  striking  of  the 
melody ;  to  start  the  pace  for  a  genuine  art, 
which,  beyond  creating  pretty  phrases,  will  find 
a  language  for  ever  deepening  and  ever  differ- 
entiating shades  of  feeling,  approaching  the 
clearness  of  verbal  thought.  Finally,  in  the 
structure  of  the  whole  work  will  lie  the  art- 
form,  which  will  build  and  co-ordinate  in 
supplementary  moods  one  homogeneous  ex- 
pression of  a  great  emotional  idea. 

How  this  special  purpose  of  discussion  was 
carried  out,  the  need  being  clear,  will  be  easily 
seen ;  further,  too,  how  each  element — of 
tonality,  of  duality,  of  discussion — reinforced 
the  other. 

The  final  achievement  was  this : 

A  melody  begins  with  clear  intonation  of 
the  key,  by  harmonic  sounding  of  the  main 
chord.  It  is  succeeded  presently  by  a  second, 
which  is  contrasted  in  every  way, — in  character, 
in  movement,  and  in  key.  Now  see  how  duality 
helps  tonality.  Black  is  black,  after  all,  only 
in  contrast  with  white.  So  the  original  tonic 

39 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

key  is  not  really  clear,  until  a  departure  into 
the  complementary  dominant,  with  the  second 
melody.  Thus  the  contrast,  with  well-marked 
cadence,  sharpens  the  effect  of  each. 

When  the  two  melodies  have  been  stated, 
there  is,  of  course,  a  sojourn,  a  cadence,  in  the 
complementary  key,  the  dominant.  This  in 
itself  invites  a  return  homeward  to  the  original, 
or  tonic.  At  the  same  time,  the  clearness  of 
stated  melodies  is  assured  by  a  repetition  from 
the  beginning.  And  now  the  story  really 
begins:  the  characters  are  described;  now 
they  act  and  talk  ;  the  several  musical  ideas  are 
discussed,  singly  or  together,  to  new  surprises 
of  climax  and  beauty ;  they  take  on  the  guise 
often  of  new  melodies,  or  melodies  of  kindred 
beauty  are  suggested.  Thus  (not  to  bind 
ourselves  beyond  the  hint  of  analogy)  the 
themes  pass  from  the  mere  phase  of  lyric  ut- 
terance to  that  of  epic  narrative,  not  without 
strong  dramatic  power.  Now  must  come  the 
close ;  and  see  once  more  the  interrelation  of 
key  and  theme,  of  tonality  and  duality.  The 
melodies  reappear  in  the  original  order,  but  with 
change  in  key  ;  for  the  second  must  close  in  the 
tonic.  And,  again,  the  balance  is  maintained ; 
40 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

for,  while  the  earlier  melody  had  the  advantage 
of  first  appearance,  the  second  has  the  last 
word  in  this,  the  principal  tonal  territory.* 

And  thus  a  symphony  (which,  etymologi- 
cally,  means  a  sounding  together,  using,  as  it 
did,  all  the  resources  of  instrumental  sound, 
and  in  Beethoven's  Ninth  even  pressing  voices 
into  service)  had,  from  the  time  of  Mozart, 
the  ambitious  purpose  of  expressing  a  sort  of 
modulation  through  three  or  four  moods  of 
one  dominant  feeling.  I  use  the  word  "feel- 
ing" for  lack  of  a  better.  In  its  highest  phase, 
this  purpose  sometimes  is  a  kind  of  poetic 
view  of  life,  colored  by  what  is  at  the  time  the 
individuality  of  the  composer. 

*  The  association  of  the  first  melody  with  the  tonic 
key  has  in  most  sonata  movements  prevailed  over  the 
need  of  contrast  of  tonality.  In  these  the  final  statement 
of  melodies  has  the  first  in  the  tonic,  followed  by  the 
second  in  the  same  kev. 


Ill 

HAYDN 

PERHAPS  the  distinguishing  trait  and  charm 
of  Haydn  is  a  certain  out-of-doors  feeling 
after  church  or  school,  a  dancing  exuberance 
of  childlike  humor  and  hilarity,  what  the  Ger- 
mans call  Ausgelassenheit.  Haydn  never  lost 
this  note.  And  we  must  mark  that  it  was  to 
express  this  feeling  first  and  foremost  that  the 
symphony  was  invented.  Later,  to  be  sure,  the 
symphony  and  fugue  approached  each  other — 
were  even  blended — in  spirit  and  in  form. 

This  discovery  has  a  double  view, — one,  that 
Haydn  was  the  first  to  put  a  mood  into  the 
symphony  :  he  was  the  first  great  secular  tone- 
poet.  In  him  feeling  first  mastered  form,  a 
feeling  of  pure  joyousness ;  yet  he  could  rise 
to  a  serious  height  of  solemn  devotion.  There 
was  not  the  subsequent  note  of  defiance,  of 
awful  depth  or  sublimity.  But  Haydn  had  a 
serene  profundity  of  his  own,  and,  moreover,  a 
true  lyric  beauty. 

42 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  other  view  is  the  original  simplicity  of 
the  purpose  of  the  symphony,  its  note  of  re- 
action from  stern  complexities  to  a  holiday 
mood.  There  is  no  breath  of  philosophy  in 
the  beginning, — mere  childlike  abandon.  This 
finds  naturally  its  symptoms  and  proof  in  the 
early  form  and  treatment.  And  yet  we  should 
be  farthest  from  the  truth  if  we  ascribed  to 
Haydn  a  lack  of  mastery.  The  striking  fact 
that  the  change  was  one  of  feeling,  is  clearest 
in  the  voluntary  simplicity  of  the  masters  who 
could,  at  the  proper  hour,  write  the  most  pro- 
found counterpoint.  Indeed,  the  tradition  of 
the  older  school  compelled  a  thorough  training 
of  the  musician. 

But  the  earliest  bent  of  structural  creation 
was  in  a  horizontal  direction,  not  vertical ; 
was  in  melody  and  outline  rather  than  in 
simultaneous  polyphonic  combinations.  As 
soon  as  the  form  was  achieved,  the  deepening 
process,  in  both  senses,  began  with  Haydn. 
In  fact,  Haydn  in  his  long  career  (he  wrote 
his  first  symphony  before  Mozart's  birth,  his 
greatest  after  the  latter's  death)  shows  very 
well  the  various  phases  of  the  whole  move- 
ment. 

43 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

In  his  later  works  the  depth  of  treatment, 
united  to  light  simplicity,  is  a  most  wonderful 
blending,  a  most  delightful  alternation  of  seri- 
ous playfulness  and  playful  seriousness.  It  is 
impossible  to  see  how  Haydn  can  fail  to  be 
perennial. 

Aside  from  his  undoubted  absolute  value, 
Haydn's  importance  is  in  some  degree  historic 
in  his  position  as  the  pioneer  in  the  expression 
in  great  art-works  of  purely  secular  feeling. 
A  clear  outward  sign  of  this  is  his  creation 
of  the  modern  orchestra.  It  is  not  unjust 
to  say  that  the  orchestra,  with  predominance 
of  strings,  was  the  original  conception  of 
Haydn. 

With  Bach  the  orchestra  belonged  to  the 
spirit  of  the  Church,  of  frugal  Protestant  piety ; 
with  Handel  it  was  devoted  to  the  dramatic 
celebration  of  biblical  themes,  or,  as  in  Gluck, 
of  mythological  heroes.  With  all  it  was  stiff, 
undeveloped,  and  harsh,  under  the  shrill  domi- 
nation of  the  classic  pipe  and  reed.  With 
Haydn,  as  the  strings  uttered  the  soft  hum  of 
woods  and  meadows,  it  was  a  joyous,  exultant 
praise  of  nature.  And  see  the  significance  of 
the  titles  of  Haydn's  oratorios,  the  "  Creation," 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  "  Seasons ;"  contrast  them  with  earlier  sub- 
jects. 

But  with  all  this  relative  position,  there  is 
no  question  of  Haydn's  absolute  value.  His 
adagios  may  have  a  mock-heroic,  a  pseudo- 
pathetic  air;  but  his  andantes  are  true  lyric 
feeling. 

With  Haydn  the  symphony  began  as  salon 
amusement,  and  soon  reached  the  height  of 
poetic  expression  of  exuberant  joyousness,  of 
playful  humor,  and  of  a  certain  idyllic,  lyric 
utterance.  With  Mozart  it  deepened  in  inten- 
sity and  broadened  in  scope.  Losing  the  limi- 
tations of  bourgeois  humor  and  joy,  it  took  a 
more  cosmic  view.  We  shall  see  later  a  great 
step  over  both  masters.  In  Haydn  and  Mozart 
music  still  had  strongly  the  entertaining  atti- 
tude ;  it  was  there  principally  to  give  pleasure. 
There  was  no  suggestion  of  prophecy,  of  warn- 
ing, of  defiant  proclamation  of  truth  in  general, 
or  of  any  definite  truth  in  particular.  Music 
did  not,  as  yet,  in  Beethoven's  words, "  strike  fire 
from  the  soul  of  man."  Haydn's  holiday  spirit, 
complete  in  contrast  with  the  Church  school, 
was  limited  in  comparison  with  his  successors. 
In  Mozart  a  classic  depth  and  balance  was 

45 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

gained.  Boyish  exuberance  yielded  to  maturer 
serenity.  Depth  of  pathos  was  first  explored. 
Haydn's  was  the  song  of  the  child ;  Mozart's 
of  the  youth ;  Beethoven's  of  the  man.  When, 
in  Beethoven,  feeling  controls  the  form,  the 
advance  in  poetic  expression  of  passion  seems 
as  great  as  Haydn's  original  step. 


Symphony  in  D. 
(Peters  Edition,  No.  3.) 

Haydn  must  always  begin  with  the  grave 
Adagio*  which  is  as  solemn  as  it  is  short. 
Often  it  seems  hardly  meant  seriously.  One 
cannot  help  thinking  of  the  king  of  France 
and  twenty  thousand  men.  All  this  majestic 
striking  of  attitudes,  to  run  off,  after  a  few 
bars,  into  the  sprightliest  of  Presto  themes : 


Presto.  STRINGS. 


The  bass,  as  common  fv  doubled  below 
46 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


reversed  later,  as  countertheme : 


Tudi. 


*f 

The  ascending  melody  in  thirds. 

All  fits  so  perfectly  that  every  one  is  uncon- 
sciously dancing  alone,  yet  in  perfect  agreement 
with  the  rest.  Everything  is  so  simple, — the 
theme,  the  rhythm,  the  most  obvious  modula- 
tions, that  one  cannot  see  the  secret  of  the 
eternal  freshness.  In  the  most  natural  way,  a 
new  melody  and  rhythm  is  made  from  the 

47 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

countertheme  by  merely  shifting  the  accent, 
using  question  for  answer. 

The  second  melody  brings  no  great  change 
of  feeling : 
STRINGS. 


No  one  has  succeeded,  like  Haydn,  in  being 
childlike,  and,  withal,  fundamental ;  joyful, 
hilarious  even,  yet  cosmic ;  light  and  simple, 
with  pervading  complexity. 

After  statement  and  repetition  of  melodies, 
the  Presto  continues,  according  to  tradition,  to 
discourse  on  the  second  theme.  Here  we  may 
expect  the  highest  polyphony,  or  contrapuntal 
discussion  between  the  voices ;  and  we  are  not 
disappointed.  As  in  string  quartet,  the  violins 
each  have  their  say  on  the  text  of  the  melody, 
— now  successively,  now  by  alternate  inter- 
ruption, or,  again,  in  dual  agreement.  Later 
the  fagots  put  in  their  word,  then  all  the 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

woodwind  ;  finally  the  brass  and  ail  j*)in  in  the 
jolly   countertheme,  with    much   irresponsible 


T~  .......  M  ^j  JW    j_J 

Strings  doubled  below.    Harmony  in  highe*  wind. 

merriment  in  related  phrases.  The  re-entrance 
of  melodies  in  original  order  begins  in  the  ac- 
customed way,  but  suddenly  turns,  against  all 
rule,  into  the  developing  episode  of  the  second 
subject,  and  ends,  naturally  though  irregularly, 
with  final  singing  of  the  principal  theme.  The 
whole  movement  shows  how  the  masters  who 
first  moulded  the  forms  of  the  symphony,  were, 
in  a  way,  least  bound  by  its  shackles,  —  had  the 
most  perfect  freedom  of  utterance. 

The  Andante  is  German  folk-song  of  the 
purest  and  simplest.  It  seems  that  the  most 
natural  intervals  and  harmonies  are  the  proper 
utterance  of  the  Germans;  all  other  "folk" 
must  take  up  with  the  strange  and  eccentric. 
The  nearer  they  are  akin  to  the  Germans,  ihe 
more  they  share  in  the  rights  of  the  tonic  and 
dominant.  Like  many  of  Haydn's  slow  move- 
ments, this  is  largely  a  variation  of  one  melody, 

*-  49 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Andante. 


STRINGS  AND  FAGOTS. 


= 


m 


with  but  a  single  foreign  episode, — the  Minore. 
The  latter,  in  its  fragmental  phrases,  its  pom- 
pous and  eccentric  stride  of  principal  and  lesser 
figures,  in  the  general  clatter  and  noise,  seems 
intended  mainly  to  give  relief  to  the  simplicity 
of  the  principal  melody, — perhaps  to  add  a 
tinge  of  dignity. 

Haydn's  scherzos  always  have  a  strong  "out 

of  school"  feeling,— this  one  especially ;  only 

it  is  a  short  recess.     The  themes  of  the  two 

middle  movements  are  plainly  discernible  at 

50 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


first  hearing.     But  mark,  after  the  first  burst  of 
the  whole  orchestra : 


MENUETTO.  Allegretto. 
Full  orchestra. 


the  playfulness   of  the  answer,  whispered  by 
strings  and  flutes : 


I     -I 


Doubled  below. 


and  the  comic  mocking  of  basses  and  trebles 
in  the  first  cadence.  The  Trio  in  its  first  eight 
bars  has  always  been  somewhat  of  a  mystery : 
why  Haydn  should  have  used  what  seems  the 
most  modern  of  bizarre  effects, — a  continuous 
sounding  of  the  tonic  chord  in  the  strings, 
with  a  melody  in  the  flutes,  which  almost 
craves  a  momentary  glimpse  of  the  dominant. 

5' 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Haydn  probably  wanted  a  touch  of  the  hurdy- 
gurdy.  It  must  be  well  marked  that  the  second 
time  he  clearly  yields  to  the  demands  of  the 
dominant,  though  still  keeping  a  tonic  pedal- 
point.  The  development  of  the  Trio  is  much 
more  important  than  of  the  Scherzo,  discours- 
ing on  a  more  suggestive  theme,  a  phrase  from 
the  Trio  melody : 


It  is  full  of  a  humor  and  spirit  of  its  own. 

Strange  to  say,  the  Finale  (marked  Pivace)  is 
quite  the  most  serious  phase  of  the  symphony. 
Recess  is  quite  over ;  we  are  back  in  school — 
not  to  say  church.  For  the  violins,  like  a  well 
trained  choir,  are  striking  up  a  melody  that 
sounds  much  like  a  good  old  chorale  : 


FINALE.    Vivace. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


*  -  .- 


x  • 


Simply  stated,  without  a  note  of  extended 
cadence,  it  is  strictly  repeated  as  if  to  make 
sure  we  know  it.  It  is  like  the  preacher  who 
states  his  text  with  all  serious  unction,  and 
repeats  it,  to  give  warning  of  the  great  sermon 
which  is  to  follow.  We  are  sure  it  is  a  rondo, 
mainly  because  it  is  not  sonata-form ;  the  car- 
dinal theme,  in  its  constant  rounds,  never  lets 
us  forget  the  text  of  the  sermon.  After  some 
playing  of  themal  phrases,  there  comes  one 
of  those  dynamic  passages,  where  all  join  to 
make  a  noise,  and  finally  drop  exhausted  into 
a  cadence ;  whereupon  the  strings,  with  a  little 
help  from  the  wood,  gently  toss  about  snatches 
of  the  melody,  and  the  rest  pitch  in  again  in 
general  turbulence.  At  last  the  strings  rehearse 
the  theme  in  really  serious  manner,  with  but 
slight  obligate  variation.  The  rest,  too,  join 

53 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

properly  and  respectfully  in  singing  the  hymn 
in  its  original  harmonies.  Soon  comes  another 
of  those  terrible  phases,  another  Minore,  where 
Papa  Haydn  tries  so  hard  to  look  very  fierce, 
without  anything  special  to  say ;  merely  gen- 
eral muttering,  with  the  same  old  faces.  We 
all  know  it  is  only  to  break  the  more  pleasantly 
into  his  own  benignant  smile. 

Here  is  the  fugue,  which  we  knew  was 
coming  from  the  emphatic  way  the  theme  was 
first  enounced.  With  such  a  theme  it  could 
not  be  resisted.  It  begins  in  the  first  violins, 
with  the  seconds  tripping  in  obligate  behind, 
before,  and  all  around,  until  they  finally  take 
up  the  theme,  and  the  violas  "  hold  the  candle." 
Best  of  all  is  when  the  cellos  come  in  and  the 
rest  all  play  about.  Of  course,  the  violas  have 
their  turn,  too.  Finally,  the  wood  make  a 
trial  at  the  theme,  while  the  violins  go  on 
without  attending  to  their  ineffective  attempts, 
and  finally  run  away  from  them  on  a  side  path. 
At  last  the  whole  orchestra  joins  in  the  fugue 
with  all  possible  magnificence  and  solemnity, 
until  the  last  verse,  which  is  sung  once  more 
as  at  first. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Symphony  in  Ek. 
(Peters  Edition,  No.  I.) 

Here,  again,  is  Haydn's  beginning  Adagio, — 
very  beautiful ;  yet  somehow  it  seems  a  mere 
*'  attention,"  or  the  formal  prayer  on  entering 
church;  or  it  is  like  the  child's  game,  where 


serious  pretence  but  leads  to  frivolous  surprise. 
Perhaps  it  does  give  a  certain  serious  tone  to 
the  whole.  But  pathos  was  never  Haydn's 
strong  point.  So  he  is  glad  to  give  way  to  the 
merry  dance  of  the  Allegro,  like  a  monk's  dis- 
guise thrown  off  by  the  dancer.  Of  course, 
our  symphony  has  not  quite  emerged  from 
the  frivolous  stage. 

The  melody  is  at  once  delightful  in  itselfj 
and  promising  for  "  talking  about"  later  on : 
55 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Allegro  con  spirito.  "^ 

^M^rn  PtfBJiiS 


X" 


all  in  Haydn's  favorite  strings,  while  the  wood- 
wind merely  answer  in  a  noisy  acclaim  in  a 
rather  unimportant  way,  with  loud  calls  and 
echoes, — very  playfully,  too,  as  when  oboes, 
fagots,  and  strings  softly  sound  the  theme, 
and  then  all  answer  in  frightening  chorus: 


There  is  a  queer  bustling  figure  which  looks 
as  though  we  had  heard  it  before : 

56 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


jSajj  doubled  below. 

but  we  are  sure  we  have  not. 

At  last,  a  dancing  melody  comes  along  in 
not  too  foreign  a  key,  quite  as  a  merry  after- 
thought, and  sets  the  whole  orchestra  dancing 
with  it : 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

And  now,  after  repeated  statement  of  both 
melodies,  begins  Haydn's  typical  phase  of  ar- 
chitectural lightness.  Complexity  usually  sug- 
gests seriousness.  But  with  Haydn  it  is  the 
mood  of  old  madrigals,  of  general  merry- 
making. Yet  the  depth  of  treatment,  when 
analyzed,  is  greater  than  of  fugues ;  only  it  is 
spontaneous,  and  therefore  the  more  perfect. 
There  is  a  delicious  conflict  of  rhythm ;  and 
so  profound  is  the  architecture  that  we  must 
abandon  minute  perception.  We  can  merely 
enjoy  the  general  daze  of  varied  harmony  and 
structure. 

Again  enters  the  curiously  familiar  strain 
which  we  cannot  place ;  more  of  playful  and 
sometimes  solemn  repartee  of  higher  and  lower 
strings  on  the  main  theme ;  introducing,  again, 
with  delicious  surprise,  the  dance  of  the  second 
melody  in  a  new  light,  while  the  woodwind  are 
pertly  talking  back. 

Then  in  orthodox  simplicity  the  melodies 
enter  in  the  original  order,  until — something 
strange  happens.  Out  of  a  noisy  tumult, 
closing  in  hushed  cadence,  the  monkish  figure 
reappears;  the  first  melody  is  sung  again. 
And  now  we  see  the  secret  of  the  strange 
58 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

melody;  for,  following  immediately  upon  the 
former,  it  proves  to  be  nothing  but  its  mock- 
ing echo  in  very  quick  rhythm.  The  like- 
ness between  monk  and  dancer  does  not 
appear  until  the  strain  is  rung  in  the  suc- 
cessive variations,  penseroso  and  allegro.  On 
the  whole,  it  does  seem  that  Haydn,  though 
he  is  charged  here  with  serious  intent,  has 
again  sacrificed  all  to  his  mood  of  friendly 
humor  half  unconsciously,  like  an  amiable 
person  turning  off  a  severe  word  with  a  pleas- 
antry. 

But  the  Andante  is,  for  Haydn,  unusually 
solemn.  The  playing  by  strings,  however, 
restores  the  typical  quality.  There  is  some  of 
the  stateliness  that  Papa  Haydn  would  almost 
deliberately  assume :  "  Now  we  must  be  very 
serious." 


Andante.  STRINGS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

But  it  has  the  fine,  strong  diatonic  simplicity 
which  marks  all  great  music ;  and  this  appears 
especially  in  the  major  guise,  later  on. 

It  is  all  a  series  of  variations  on  this  melody. 
The  first,  in  the  major,  has  much  of  that  Ger- 
man simplicity  of  intimate  sentiment.  In  the 

Strings  doubled  above  in  the  -woodwind, 
tf  tf 


second,  there  is  a  curious  dramatic  effect  of 
the  original  minor,  by  a  simple  addition  of 
a  melody  in  the  oboe.  The  third  is  a  jolly 
version  of  the  major  theme,  in  quick-tripping 
runs,  with  a  few  warm,  friendly  chords  in  the 
horns,  to  keep  up  the  temperature.  The  next 
is  heroic,  somewhat  a  la  Chevalier  Gluck;  but 
our  hero  is  always  making  desperate  attempts 
to  stand  stiffly  upright;  he  is  constantly  un- 
bending, and  betraying  his  natural  kindliness 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

But  he  is  doing  his  best  to  look  ferocious,  and 
the  next  minute  he  is  apologizing  all  the  more 
sweetly.  Now  the  major  alternative  has  a 
special  pastoral  feeling,  with  the  melody  in  the 
oboes,  and  counterphrases  in  the  flutes,  which 
later  join  the  main  song. 

The  end  is  impressive.  First  the  voices 
steal  in  one  by  one,  making,  unconscious  one 
of  the  other,  a  harmony  of  four  melodies. 
Then  they  spruce  up,  and  all  march  in  best 
uniform,  in  full  pride  of  their  combined  mag- 
nificence,  not  without  an  occasional  lapse  into 
quaint  naturalness  of  feeling. 

Here,  in  the  third  movement,  is  the  ideal 
minuet  feeling ;  the  dear,  old-fashioned  stateli- 
ness  and  formality ;  the  pretty,  prim  quaint- 
ness,  with  naive  reiterations  of  the  last  phrase, 
high  and  low  : 

Menuetto.    Tutti  (the  melody  an  octave  above  in  the  flutes). 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 
1 


1 


But  presently  it  breaks  into  a  treatment 
much  too  broad  for  the  old  minuet,  where  the 
voices,  instead  of  strumming  stiffly  in  rhythmic 
accompaniment,  answer  back  with  the  theme 
in  their  own  independent  way. 

The  Trio  seems  a  flight  from  the  restraint  of 
the  rigid  dance.  In  a  gracefully  free  melody, 
indeterminate  in  tune  and  rhythm : 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  strings  enter  in  turn,  on  their  own  sweet 
will.  It  is  a  little  interlude  in  the  dance ;  a 
quiet  tete-h-tete ;  at  the  end  formalities  and  atti- 
tudes are  again  assumed. 

In  the  Finale,  one  of  the  broadest  of  Haydn's 
rondos,  there  is  from  the  beginning  a  fine 
duality.  From  the  first  phrase  there  is  the 
stamp  of  highest  mastery.  Every  voice  comes 
in  with  something  important  to  say,  not  a  mere 
polite  accompaniment  of  "  Yes,  yes,"  "  So  say 
we  all."  So  there  is  from  the  start  a  profundity 
which  almost  makes  us  fear  what  the  climax 
must  be.  At  the  outset  there  are  two  distinct 
melodies, — one  a  fundamental  motto  in  the 
horns,  the  other  a  gay,  careless  phrase  in  the 
strings : 

Allegro  con  spirito.                                                I         •         • 
jit—  I          M        I  T| ^  I    s.— - * J       *      I 

^^J^JTCl^U^Iu— ,'JT"^H 

^5    -  ^      ^ 

HORNS. 
VIOLINS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

J-4  j      rr 

" r 


(.  \r-     •    ~f 

CLARIONET. 

Then,  while  these  are  ringing  in  our  ears,  a 
third  adds  to  the  sweet  bewilderment.  But 
before  the  third  appears,  the  various  strings 
enter  in  "  Three  Blind  Mice"  fashion,  each 
without  waiting  for  the  other  to  finish,  and, 
what  is  more  wonderful,  they  sing  the  answer 
in  the  same  way. 

Ever  and  again,  in  the  true  rondo  spirit,  the 
friendly  motto  comes,  in  highest  simplicity. 
There  is  a  big,  ponderous  episode,  where  the 
motto,  sounded  loud,  does  not  stop  in  strict 
conclusion,  but,  like  a  philosophic  proposition, 
deduces  itself  at  length.  The  whole  is  like 
dogma  solemnly  proclaimed  on  church  organ 
(in  the  bass  the  second  melody  is  marching), 
where  over  all  lesser  interests  the  great  truth 
shines  and  dims  the  others : 

Higher  wood  and  strings  doubled  below  in  the  brass. 


i-  a>      M.  I— ^ M.  •    -f— « 


/*  r  r  r 


Cellos,  violas,  and  fagots  doubled  above  in  clarionets. 
64 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Basses  added. 


But  with  Haydn  this  mood  never  lasts  long  ; 
the  earthly,  human  quickly  breaks  through. 

To  the  duet  of  motto  and  melody  is  added 
a  smooth-running  obligate  in  strings.  Pres- 
ently, after  a  noisy  close  of  the  whole  or- 
chestra, comes  what  seems  the  gem  of  the 
whole.  In  simple  monomelodic  statement  it 
seems  entirely  new,  sonorously  sung  by  the 
cellos,  while  the  upper  strings  strike  the  chord  : 


STRINGS. 


P  CELLOS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

.1      I      I 


There  is  a  complete  lyric  contrast  \vith  the 
former  dramatic  polyphony.  The  cellos  are 
answered  by  flutes,  and  then,  again  replying, 
soar  into  one  of  those  romantic  modulations 
which  we  thought  were  of  a  later  master.  It 
foreshadows  clearly  the  poetry  of  Schubert's 
Unfinished. 

Then  through  a  noisy  chorus  of  lesser  im- 
portance by  a  quiet  cadence,  like  an  informal 
conversation,  we  come  back  to  the  original 
duet  of  motto  and  melody.  But  here  is  still 
more  bewildering  architecture,  —  more  and 
more  massive,  overpowering,  until  suddenly  re- 
appears the  single  romantic  figure  in  a  new 
color  of  light.  At  the  end  of  the  phrase, 
however,  there  is  something  new,— the  round 
bassoon  quietly  chimes  a  note  of  assent,  almost 
too  unimportant  to  mention ;  but,  after  all, 
there  are  two  instead  of  one.  Again  the  Schu- 

66 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


bert  modulation,  that  makes  us  think  of 
king  and  Death  and  the  Maiden.  A  loud  ac- 
claim brings  us  to  onr  original  key  and 
beginning  ;  again  the  delicious  duality.  But 
in  this,  the  real  return  to  the  first  part,  every- 
thing is  reinforced  ;  all  the  reserves  are  called 
out  ;  so  that  the  first  seemed  but  preliminary  to 
this  magnificence  and  to  the  enchanting  con- 
fusion. Once  more  the  Schubert  melody.  And 
see  the  number  of  mere  strumming  beats  we 
must  wait  for  the  melody,  —  -just  so  many.  We 
must  have  good  patience,  and  be  ready  at  the 
exact  time  ;  otherwise  we  are  out  of  tune,  —  a 
fine  example  of  the  musician,  the  unconscious 
arithmetician.  Twelve  meaningless  strums,  and 
then  the  melody,  divinely  ordained  to  come 
just  at  this  moment.  Now  there  is  more 
beautiful  duo  singing  in  friendly  quarrel. 

At  the  end,  like  a  blessing,  the  motto  is 
broadly  sounded  by  all  the  wind  but  the 
flutes,  as  if  they  really  meant  it  as  final  conclu- 
sion, while  the  strings  are  loyal  to  their  wordly 
counter-tune. 


67 


rv 

,        MOZART 

UNTIL  to-day,  Mozart's  greatness  has  been 
unquestioned.  It  devolves  upon  our  genera- 
tion to  uphold  him  against  voices  that  with 
faint  praise  or  slurring  epithet  are  seeking  to 
relegate  him  to  a  mere  historic  shelf. 

Mozart  suggests  the  question  which  con- 
stantly arises  in  Art  between  perfect  form  or 
beauty  of  outline,  and  intensity  of  emotional 
content.  Where  must  the  stress  be  ?  Is  he  the 
greater  master  who  charms  with  external  beauty 
and  cunning  skill  in  detail, — to  whom  a  harsh 
note  is  impossible?  Or  is  it  the  poet  who 
recklessly  breaks  the  fetters  of  form,  ruthlessly 
violates  sacred  canons;  who  shocks  our  ears 
with  discord,  and  yet  fills  us  with  the  sense  of 
meaning,  a  vital  feeling  which  impels  to  resolu- 
tion and  action.  The  question  is  perhaps  not 
of  the  kind  that  can  be  answered  directly.  It 
is  to  some  extent  a  matter  of  temperament. 
We  can  conceive  of  great  poets  of  both  kinds. 

68 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

It  is  the  fashion  of  a  Romantic  age  to  decry 
the  Classic.  The  same  question  arises  between 
Schumann  and  Mendelssohn,  between  Tenny- 
son and  Browning.  Nor  must  it  be  solved. 
Rather  is  it  important  not  to  rush  impetuously 
to  a  conclusion  which  unjustly  excludes.  Yet 
it  bears  on  the  question  of  the  ultimate  purpose 
of  Art,  and  it  may  be  well  to  take  some  side 
here.  From  Aristotle  to  a  very  recent  time  it 
has  been  thought  that  beauty  was  the  one  aim 
of  Art,  its  creation  the  only  function.  This 
was  more  natural  in  an  age  that'  knew  chiefly 
the  plastic  arts  of  sculpture  and  architecture. 
There  lies  the  reason  why  the  transgressions  of 
a  Beethoven  were  so  bitterly  resented.  If  he 
was  not  beautiful,  he  was  nothing.  Through 
Beethoven,  mainly,  it  has  become  clear  that 
beauty  is  merely  the  means ;  that  the  chief  end 
of  Art  is  the  communication  of  feeling  through 
the  medium  of  works  of  beauty  ;  that  beauty  is 
indispensable  as  test  of  true  feeling ;  that  high 
thought  compels  a  noble  utterance.  But  the 
feeling  is,  after  all,  the  main  end ;  for  its  ex- 
pression there  may  be  a  temporary  hiatus,  a 
violation  of  aesthetic  sense,  in  order  to  deepen, 
by  contrast,  the  final  effect.  The  element 
69 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

of  sequence,  of  musical  sense,  has  arisen 
as  paramount,  if  not  supreme.  It  is  clear 
how  the  same  passage  may  be  beautiful  in 
one  connection,  impossible  in  another.  Every- 
thing lies  in  the  idea,  the  intent ;  nothing  in 
the  absolute  independent  beauty  of  separate 
sounds. 

But,  it  must  always  be  remembered,  violation 
may  never  be  in  ignorance  of  rule, — only  by 
the  master  who,  knowing  its  reason  and  spirit, 
has  a  higher  purpose  in  his  conscious  trans- 
gression of  the  letter. 

It  is  certainly  unquestionable  that  mere  cun- 
ning of  workmanship  can  never,  in  itself,  be 
assurance  of  highest  art.  In  so  far  as  this  is 
commonly  the  basis  of  Mozart's  supremacy  as 
master,  we  must  withhold  our  homage.  But, 
in  reality,  there  is  a  better  reason.  Mozart 
does  not  stand  simply  for  graceful  perfection 
of  detail  and  outline ;  there  is  expressed  in  his 
works  the  spirit  which  gives  life  to  all  this 
beauty,  including  with  the  humor  of  a  Haydn 
something  of  the  cosmic  scope  of  a  Shake- 
speare, to  whom  he  is  often  likened.  His  very 
completeness  of  form  is  typical  and  expressive 
of  the  breadth  of  his  sympathy.  In  Bach  the 
70 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

broadest  view  of  the  religious  spirit  finds  utter- 
ance in  the  highest  development  of  the  Church 
style,  strongest  in  resistance  to  poetic  emotion. 
Mozart  crowns  the  secular  outburst,  deepening 
its  pathos,  idealizing  its  humor,  adding  a  seri- 
ous, heroic  note  which  Beethoven  afterwards 
expanded.  The  symphony  passed  in  these 
masters  from  the  stage  of  amusement  to  poetic 
expression  and  the  utterance  of  a  stern  mes- 
sage. 

We  remember  the  note  of  simplicity  of 
Haydn,  in  natural  reaction  from  the  com- 
plexity of  the  Church  school.  It  is  very  im- 
portant to  see  that  this  in  no  wise  suggests  a 
lack  of  learning ;  on  the  contrary,  that  it  was 
a  purely  voluntary  choice  of  a  means  of  ex- 
pression. Simplicity  was  necessary  to  express 
the  new  secular  feeling,  and,  furthermore,  a 
primitive  clearness  was  needed  to  convey  in 
absolute  music — the  sonata — what  had  before 
depended  upon  words, — in  the  cantata.  And, 
then,  the  achievement  of  a  new  form,  proper 
to  instrumental  music,  involved  a  stress  on 
horizontal  structure,  at  the  expense  of  the  ver- 
tical, of  counterpoint. 

Soon  these  temporal  needs  were  filled.  The 
71 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

melody  or  aria  was  attained,  with  full  swing 
and  clear  tonality ;  a'nd,  likewise,  the  basis  of 
a  form  of  wonderful  fitness  for  the  exposition 
and  discussion  of  melodic  thoughts.  Now 
the  note  of  simplicity  had  been  rung  enough. 
Even  in  Haydn  we  have  seen  a  new  profund- 
ity which  somehow  does  not  mar  his  childlike 
lightness.  But  Mozart  had  an  altogether 
broader  view  and  a  profounder  sense.  He 
reflects  in  music  the  cosmic  breadth  and  the 
mystic  depth  of  his  great  contemporary,  the 
poet  Goethe,  and  of  the  best  German  thought 
of  his  time. 

In  Mozart  the  special  prominence  of  any 
typical  feeling  is  less  striking  than  in  Haydn. 
Therefore  his  music  seems  less  characteristic. 
But  this  comes  not  so  much  from  a  lack  of 
intensity  as  from  greater  breadth, — an  equal 
intensity  in  various  moods. 

Symphony  in  G  Minor. 

(Breitkopf  and  Haertel,  No.  40.) 

Is  there  anywhere  more  poetry  or  art,  01 
more  of  the  blending  of  both,  than  in  this 
work  of  Mozart's?  It  is  always  a  recurring 
question  whether  Mozart's  symphonies  are  not 

72 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  greatest,  partly  because  of  their  very  sim- 
plicity, of  their  childlike  innocence  of  a  bur- 
den of  meaning, — because  of  their  pure  beauty 
and  formal  perfection.  It  does  seem  that  in 
this  respect,  of  pure  beauty,  the  G  Minor  is 
the  highest  of  all ;  and  beauty  is,  after  all, 
paramount  in  the  purpose  of  art,  even  in  these 
latter  days.  There  is  a  fine  Hellenic  lack  of 
strife  and  strain,  a  high  serenity. 

It  is  observable  that  Mozart's  limitations  do 
not  appear  in  themselves,  but  only  in  negative 
comparison  with  other  masters ;  and  yet  in  this 
very  comparison  some  of  the  highest  traits  ap- 
pear. The  true  symphonic  mastery  is  hardest 
to  describe.  It  may  break  upon  us  during 
the  course  of  this  book.  But  whatever  it  is, 
Mozart  certainly  possessed  it  in  a  peculiar 
degree.  His  was  the  time  when  pure  beauty, 
unalloyed  with  pale  thought  or  dim  meaning 
or  grim  woe,  was  filling  men's  minds.  Schu- 
bert's Unfinished  Symphony  falls  within  this 
period. 

But  the  special  type  of  this  phase  is  Mozart's 
G  Minor,  which  begins  with  the  entrancing 
melody,  like  a  dashing  brook  in  early  spring, 
with  the  delicacy  of  gentlest  rain  • 

73 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


AZlsero  molto.  STRINGS.      With  lower  octave 


There  is  no  lack  of  the  foil  of  strong  me- 
lodic contrast.  But  the  motion  and  sequence 
of  the  whole  is  so  subtly  perfect  that  we 
cannot  stop  to  label  the  themes.  Immediately 
after  the  first  comes  a  transitional  theme  : 


Violins  sustained  by  wood  an  octave  above. 


Doubled  in  octaves  above  and  btlovo. 
74 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


that  is  really  more  important  than  the  regular 
second,  because  it  lends  the  quality  of  stiff- 
ening lime.  It  is  curiously  noteworthy  that 
neither  of  the  secondary  themes  has  any  part 
in  the  discussion  after  the  repeat  of  subjects, 
which  is  entirely  on  the  text  of  the  principal 
melody.  It  is  what  might  be  called  a  live 
counterpoint,  where  the  bass  is  as  individual 
as  the  soprano,  a  real  discussion,  a  very  logi- 
cal exchange  of  retorts  and  repartees.  Here 
we  are  nearer  the  secret  of  true  symphonic 
mastery,  when,  after  the  melodies  have  made 
their  rounds  and  courtesies,  the  best  is  yet  to 
come. 

Your  lyricist,  who  expends  himself  upon  his 
melodies,  worries  through  the  period  of  treat- 
ment, the  Durchfuehrungi  as  best  he  can.  The 
master  feels  the  real  purpose  of  themes :  for 

75 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

discussion.  Mozart's  development  in  the  be- 
ginning Allegro  of  the  G  Minor  is  not,  as  in  the 
Jupiter,  peculiarly  contrapuntal  or  architectural, 
but  is  typically  a  discussion.  It  is  strange  what 
a  dogmatic,  pugnacious  quality  appears  in  so 
graceful  a  theme  by  this  alternative  assertion 
between  violins  and  bassos.  Its  peculiar  beauty 
seems  better  fitted  for  the  lighter  retorts,  best 
of  all  for  the  simple,  unchallenged  song,  after 
all  strife  is  over. 

The  Andante  is  in  Mozart's  most  serious 
mood.  Surely  any  musician,  hearing  it  for  the 
first  time  uninformed,  would  say  Beethoven, 
which  again  proves  Mozart's  versatility  and 
surprising  depth.  After  all,  it  seems  often 
that  Beethoven  in  his  profoundest  feeling  is 
grounded  directly  upon  Mozart.  We  cannot 
shelve  Mozart  as  yet.  He  must  go  down 
with  the  nineteenth  century  on  the  first  line  of 
classics.  As  the  Finale  of  this  symphony  is 
prototype  of  Beethoven's  Scherzo  in  the  Fifth, 
so  this  Andante  strikes  the  serious  note  of  the 
slow  movement  of  the  same  Beethoven  sym- 
phony. And  the  Finale  of  the  Jupiter  has  its 
like  nowhere  save,  perhaps,  in  Brahms. 
76 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

See  how  subtly  the  melody  steals  in,  almost 
beyond  exact  quotation.  It  lies  somewhere 
between  the  violin-voices,  as  they  quietly  enter 
in  canon  order,  and  the  basses,  in  the  graceful, 
mysterious  curve  of  their  ascent : 


Andante.  [!N  STRINGS  AND  HORNS.] 


But  in  all  there  is  something  of  the  pro- 
phetic sternness  which  we  think  of  in  Bee- 
thoven as  against  Mozart.  To  be  sure,  it  is 
instantly  relieved  in  the  lighter  answer : 


77 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


but  it  is  renewed  with  an  added  ripieno  voice 
in  the  high  violins  over  the  recurring  first 
melody: 

The  second  melody  has  a  tripping  phrase  in 
its  constant  wake, 

STRINGS. 


which,  later,  added  to  the  first,  increases  the 
solemn  complexity.  It  is,  after  all,  more  than 
mere  fine  art, — a  broad,  deep,  poetic  thought. 
Or,  rather,  does  not,  in  fact,  art  best  express  the 
real  profundity  ? 

78 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

After  the  clangor  of  discussion,  the  main 
melody  steals  in  with  even  greater  solemnity. 
It  grows  ever  more  complex,  more  human, 
more  big  with  meaning,  significant  in  its 
many  voices,  its  many  phrases,  all  singing  to 
the  same  end. 

It  seems  almost  greatest  of  all  Andantes — 
certainly  of  Mozart's — in  point  of  depth  and 
mastery.  There,  as  in  the  last  movement  of 
the  Jupiter  symphony,  is  seen  how  by  high  and 
profound  art  you  approach,  ipso  facto,  nearer  to 
clear  meaning, — at  least,  to  a  clear  definition 
of  the  feeling.  We  can  understand  Mendels- 
sohn's remark  that  music  is  a  more  exact  lan- 
guage than  prose  or  poetry.  This  must,  of 
course,  depend  upon  some  such  premises  as : 
that  the  highest  and  best  of  man's  thought  has 
in  it  more  of  feeling  than  of  dogma ;  that  in 
proportion  as  it  is  more  precious  it  is  less  capa- 
ble of  statement  in  set  terms.  As  part  of  this 
musical  language  of  feeling,  counterpoint,  such 
as  this  of  Mozart's,  is  like  a  variety  of  symbols  or 
illustrations  of  the  same  idea ;  but  they  are  pecu- 
liarly reinforcing,  as  they  are  simultaneous,  and 
harmonious  in  the  beauty  of  their  union. 

It  seems  as  if  Mozart  must  have  lived  in 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

these  six  weeks,  in  which  he  wrote  his  three 
greatest  works,  as  never  before  or  after.  Are 
we  curious  what  his  thoughts  were  ?  The  true 
answer  is  here,  in  the  symphonies  themselves, 
— far  better  than  any  verbal  account  that  even 
he  himself  could  give.  And  this  only  leads  us 
back  to  the  discussion  we  thought  we  had  just 
taken  leave  of. 

With  all  the  bright  humor  of  the  Menuetto, 
what  a  masterful  ring !  A  kind  of  Titans' 
dance,  perfect  in  its  easy,  heavy,  strange 

MENUETTO.  Allegro. 


For  strings, 


wood,  and  horns,  with 


fuller  harmony. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


rhythm, — lacking  grace  only  if  lightness   be 
necessary. 

And  then  at  last — in  the  Trio — the  purely 

TRIO.   STRINGS. 


human,  all  tenderness,  delicacy,  especially  in 
the  dainty  ending  : 

Strings  doubled  above  in  woodwind. 


i 


81 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  coincidence  has  often  been  mentioned 
between  the  theme  of  this  Finale  and  that  of 
Beethoven's  Scherzo  in  the  Fifth  Symphony.* 
It  is,  to  be  sure,  exact  in  the  first  eight  notes, 
disregarding  the  rhythm.  But  here  is  our  op- 
portunity. With  all  the  literal  similarity  there 
is  an  absolute  unlikeness  in  essence.  This 
shows  many  things,  and,  first,  the  wrongness  of 
our  literal  way  of  looking  at  music,  as  if  a 
man  could  have  a  monopoly  or  patent  on  a 
succession  of  notes  merely  because  he  was 
first  to  light  upon  them.  It  shows,  too,  how 
the  essence  of  music  is  different  from  the  com- 
mon belief:  how  it  is  purely  one  of  mood 
and  feeling.  The  Beethoven  theme,  with  the 
grim  irony  of  the  dance-step  (to  quote,  for  the 
nonce,  in  another  key),  is  in  austerest,  sardonic 

Allegro. 

humor.  In  Mozart,  in  "  common  time,"  it  is 
purest  playfulness.  Of  what  use,  if  we  know 
the  notes,  can  quote  or  even  play  them,  if  we 

*  See  the  description  and  quotation  below. 
82 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

FINALE.  Allegro  assat.     i  - 


lack  the  perception  of  feeling  which  makes 
identical  themes  really  antipodal.  With  Mozart, 
it  is  all  a  jolly,  wild  revel  of  childlike  joy,  well 
earned  after  the  profound,  serious  absorption  of 
the  earlier  symphony.  After  the  •  depths  of 
the  Weltschmer'z,  after  big  thoughts  of  a  uni- 
verse, it  is  good  to  be  dancing,  like  pure  chil- 
dren. So  the  second  melody  is  in  simplest 
Haydn  humor. 


STRINGS. 

~ 


Was  there  ever  anything  so  brilliant  as  the 
development.       Pompous,     eccentric    striding 
83 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

about,  as  if  terrible  things  were  impending, 
and  then — the  most  impish  dancing  under  the 
very  noses  of  the  same  figures  that  looked  so 
solemn.  But  soon  the  imps  get  in  a  wild 
maze  of  dance.  We  are  dizzy  looking  at 
them ;  we  can  no  longer  follow  the  leader. 
Each  seems  independent  of  all  the  rest,  yet 
they  never  even  jostle.  Somehow,  they  all 
make  a  perfect  picture  ;  they  seem  to  dance  as 
a  curious,  complex  whole,  a  simulation 'of  wild 
disorder.  Gradually  they  simmer  down  to  a 
lull.  It  all  ends  in  the  joyous  simplicity  of 
the  beginning. 

The  G  Minor  does  seem  the  greatest  of  all 
symphonies — when  we  hear  it.  But,  then,  it 
is  really  the  test  of  a  symphony  that  you 
prefer  it  to  all  others  when  you  hear  it,  and 
this  must  be  an  excuse  for  a  subjective  treat- 
ment. There  is  a  right  and  wrong,  a  false  and 
true  in  art,  but  there  is  no  necessary  gradation 
in  rank  of  the  masterpieces. 

The  "  Jupiter"  Symphony,  in  C  Major. 

(No.  41  of  Breitkopf  and  Haertel.) 
Were  Mozart  and  Haydn  as  conscious  of 
the  high  dignity  and  capacity  of  the  symphony 
84 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

as  Beethoven  ?  They  worked  towards  it,  but 
they  were,  in  a  sense,  still  in  the  formative 
period.  But  this  was,  again,  their  strength, 
both  in  point  of  unconsciousness  and  of  formal 
beauty. 

The  contrast  is  very  complete  from  the  G 
Minor.  We  miss  the  fine  depth  of  sentiment. 
But  instead  there  is  a  certain  intellectual 
breadth,  profundity,  and  vigor.  In  nothing  is 
the  contrast  sharper  than  in  the  general  plan. 
We  have  seen  the  early  climax  of  the  G 
Minor,  and  the  gentle  descent  in  the  Finale. 
In  the  Jupiter  the  first  three  movements  seem 
mere  prelude  of  the  last. 

The  first,  Allegro  Vivace,  begins  with  an  elec- 
tric burst  of  the  whole  orchestra  in  a  sparkling 
phrase,  which  with  its  inversions  seems  to  unite 
the  whole  symphony  in  a  common  conception. 

Allegro  vivace. 
Tutti. 


J      Doubled  in  upper  and  three  lower  octaves. 

There  is  no  defined  melody.     It  is  all  like  a 
broad  fanfare,  to  show  the  breadth  of  scope 

85 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

and  the  intellectual  pitch  of  the  whole.  There 
is  a  constant  tendency  to  short,  terse  legends 
in  tone.  Not  until  the  keen  air  of  the  original 
key  is  forsaken  is  there  a  lapse  into  gently 
swinging  melodies,  of  which  the  second,  in 
particular,  is  a  grateful  gliding  into  a  more 
placid,  a  more  human,  perhaps  a  more  frivo- 
lous mood. 

STRINGS  (the  melody  in  octaves). 


-t 


But  the  development  begins  in  light  humor, 
with  charming  counterpoint.     And  this  shows 

86 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

an  innocence  of  anything  profounder  than  a 
vague  cheeriness.  Neither  the  first  nor  second 
movement  has  the  profound  feeling  of  the 
G  Minor.  But  the  whole  symphony  deepens 
as  it  proceeds.  And  so  in  the  Andante,  as 
the  first  theme  is  rather  formal  and  stately  in 

Andante  cantabile. 
STRINGS  (MUTED). 


its  mood,  the  second  is  fairly  steeped  in  senti- 
ment: 

87 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

STRINGS  (the  melody  reinforced  in  thirds  in  the  wood). 


-*  * 

FLUTES  AND  HORNS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

There  begins  the  real  song, — ^the  poetry  of 
the  story ;  and  from  this  point  the  treatment 
of  the  first  theme  is  richer  and  fuller. 

The  Menuetto,  with  all  its  charm  of  lightness 
and  dainty  swing,  cannot  compare  with  that  of 
the  G  Minor  in  vigor  or  depth.  It  is  a  pure 
dance,  while  the  other  was  more  than  was  bar- 
gained for. 

But  in  the  Finale,  the  reverse  of  the  G  Minor, 
there  is  the  most  thrilling  architecture,  all  out 
of  a  theme  of  four  notes,  united,  augmented, 

FINALE.  Allegro  molto. 
STRINGS. 


diminished.  The  vagueness  of  the  first  move- 
ment is  justified  ;  the  whole  is  with  a  broadly 
poetic  conception,  which  is  really  much  more 
Greek  than  Gothic.  There  is  Jupiter  Tonans. 
The  view  is  always  Olympian  and  manifold, 
taking  on  a  great  cosmic  complexity.  In  the 
wake  of  the  main  subject  come  other  phrases. 
One  in  the  bass  recalls  the  beginning  of  the 
whole  work : 

89 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Woodwind  with  octave  below  and  above. 


r 

Cellos,  with  violas  above  and  basses  above. 

After  a  full  cadence  rings  out  what  has  been 
called  the  "  hammer  theme," — might  be  called 
the  "  thunderer :" 

In  strings  and  wood,  doubled  in  octave  below. 


i 


; 


carried  on  in  two  voices,  one  a  third  above  the 
other. 

At  the  end  of  this  rumbling  energy  in  the 
forge  of  the  gods  comes  a  fugal  fabric  in  five 
separate  voices  from  the  strings  on  the  motto, 
sung  in  quiet  fancy,  each  entering  voice  shut- 
ting off  the  last  word  of  its  forerunner,  thus : 
90 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


^&J. 


so  all  the  violins  come  in,  from  first  to  basso. 
Then  echoes  the  blast  of  the  full  orchestra, 
with  the  theme  above  and  the  hammer  phrase 
below.  Then  a  new  counter-figure  of  impor- 
tance is  developed  : 


3 


also  entering  fugally. 

Then  comes  the  sudden  change  to  the  gentle 
second  melody,  still  in  the  violins.     But,  see, 

STRINGS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


it  is  of  the  same  flesh  and  bone  with  the  first, 
a  stolen  rib.  Around  its  disguised  entrance 
the  former  phrases  are  constantly  hovering. 

Presently  there  is  a  compact  forceful  passage 
in  the  (inverted)  second  theme,  without  a 
moment's  loss  of  melodic  swing,  without  a 
suspicion  of  the  lamp ;  on  the  contrary,  with 
constantly  added  strength  and  vigor,  and  a 
peculiar  sense  of  economy  and  mathematical 
perfection,  so  that  we  cannot  but  recall  the 
"  unconscious  arithmetician."  Now  follows 
the  most  royal  counterpoint,  the  sparks  flying 
from  the  shock  of  discord,  all  with  surest  touch 
and  perfect  harmony. 

The  development  (Durchfuehrung)  begins 
more  reflectively.  But  the  counterpoint  is  so 
dazzling,  so  overwhelming,  that  only  by  in- 
tense expectancy,  looking  again  and  again,  the 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

sunlight  is  too  bright,  you  can  discern  the 
components,  shading  the  eyes  and  standing 
farther  back.  But  perhaps  the  general  dazzle 
is  the  real  intent,  rather  than  spelling  out  each 
theme.  A  wonderful  work,  with  the  stunning 
alternative  of  hammer  themes  in  contrary  mo- 
tion, and  a  subtle  insinuation  of  the  motto  ! 
At  last  the  motto  appears  boldly  in  its  original 
guise  in  the  basses,  with  enchanting,  Schubert- 
like  modulation  from  mystery  to  certainty. 

At  the  end,  after  a  reprise  in  the  respective 
keys,  there  is  the  most  marvellous  episode  of 
all.  The  motto,  inversion,  and  diminution  in 
one,  and  the  other  two  themes,  all  in  perfect 
harmony,  are  enough  to  give  Bach  a  headache. 
There  is  an  unquenchable  thirst  for  new  state- 
ments, new  guises.  The  conception  is  of  the 
boldest  intellectual  span.  It  stamps  Mozart's 
as  one  of  the  most  broadly  constructive  minds 
the  world  has  possessed.  It  is  indeed  the  m 
plus  ultra  of  Art. 


93 


BEETHOVEN 

Two  great  traits  stand  out  as  we  view  the 
advance  over  the  masters  we  have  been  con- 
sidering, by  the  one  who  stands  at  the  height 
of  secular  expression,  if  not  of  all. 

To  use  technical  words  seems  like  travelling 
in  a  circle ;  for  they  must  always  be  explained. 
Yet  there  is  a  certain  indispensable  rough  con- 
venience about  them.  Development,  then,  is, 
after  all,  that  which  gives  life  and  reality  to 
music,  as  to  all  human  thought.  It  seems 
sometimes  as  if  any  one  could  make  a  tune  by 
thinking  hard  enough  or  long  enough.  Then, 
melody  may  be  reminiscent;  it  is  always 
partly  so.  But  if  you  can  talk  with  sequence 
and  coherence,  you  are  a  master  of  the  magic 
language ;  it  is,  then,  all  your  own.  Bother 
the  theme, — you  can  say  something  logically, 
deductively,  consecutively. 

This  Beethoven  carried  to  an  undreamt 
power ;  Schumann  developed  it  later  wonder- 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

fully  in  certain  narrower  lines.  Sometimes  it 
seems  as  if,  by  comparison,  Haydn  and  Mozart 
tied  the  melodic  sections  together ;  or  used 
the  devices  of  counterpoint,  however  master- 
fully, for  their  own  sake ;  or,  at  least,  while 
they  wrote  with  sequence,  they  did  so  with  a 
certain  consciousness,  with  more  emphasis  on 
utterance  than  on  content.  In  Beethoven,  for 
the  first  time,  everything  becomes  subordinate 
to  the  expression  of  a  great,  continuous,  homo- 
geneous thought  or  feeling.  Still,  in  all  justice, 
certain  fundamental  differences  of  the  masters 
must  be  reckoned  with.  Mozart  liked  perfec- 
tion of  form  in  itself;  he  had  a  keener  sense 
than  Beethoven  for  the  beauty  of  the  utterance. 
He  did  not,  therefore,  like  Beethoven,  rebel 
against  form  for  the  sake  of  rebelling.  There 
may  possibly  be  a  tendency  to  consider  each 
succeeding  master  too  distinctly  as  overshadow- 
ing those  before  him.  Mozart  and  Beethoven 
were  diametrically  opposite  in  temperament, 
and  the  former  is  not  merely  a  stepping-stone 
to  the  latter.  In  certain  moods,  Mozart  reaches 
an  expression  than  which  a  more  perfect  cannot 
be  imagined.  But  in  reality  and  force  of  pas- 
sion, Beethoven  undoubtedly  far  surpassed  him. 

95 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  first  trait  seems  to  lead  immediately  to 
the  second,  though  at  first  glance  they  do  not 
seem  so  closely  akin.  In  other  words,  it  is 
Meaning  which  now  becomes  more  important 
than  Beauty  in  itself.  Beethoven  first  became 
less  conscious  of  the  dignity  of  detail  than  of 
the  general  plan  or  'mood-purpose.  In  Bee- 
thoven we  first  see  the  gray  .hue  of  a  distinct 
significance;  or,  better,  perhaps,  of  a  defined 
kind  of  feeling,  instead  of  the  vague  prattling 
of  Haydn  and  Mozart.  The  latter  were  con- 
tent to  be  in  an  irresponsible,  joyous  state,  or 
else  they  had  the  tears  ready.  They  accepted 
their  fate,  their  surroundings,  their  institutions 
unmurmuringly.  They  remained  little  above 
menials  in  the  houses  of  the  nobility.  They 
were  content,  like  good  children,  to  be  happy 
out  of  doors,  in  the  woods  and  meadows ;  to 
go  to  the  established  church  and  sing  its  ser- 
vice ;  to  obey  the  authorities, — glad  to  be 
allowed  their  wages,  to  please  their  patrons. 
They  were  in  the  Grubb  Street  stage  of  music. 
To  be  sure,  at  times  there  were,  in  the  younger, 
moments  of  solemn  wandering,  even  of  bold 
revel.  But  this,  too,  was  in  the  established 
order. 

96 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Now  comes  a  man,  a  counter-figure,  only 
nobler,  of  that  other  man  of  the  time  across 
the  Rhine,  whom  the  former  celebrated  in  a 
symphony.  But  in  their  high  loyalty  to  his 
ideals,  the  works  of  Beethoven,  as  compared 
with  the  degeneration  of  Napoleon,  show 
something  of  the  nobility  of  art  as  compared 
with  statesmanship. 

Beethoven  was  first  a  thinking  man.  He 
took  seriously  himself,  his  surroundings,  and 
institutions,  social  and  political.  In  deed  and 
fact  he  was  true  to  the  ideal  of  his  thought. 
He  recognized  the  real  mission  of  art — but 
slowly  dawning  upon  us — to  utter  the  highest, 
profoundest  emotions  only  by  means  of  beauty 
of  expression.  He  dethroned  Beauty  and  set 
up  Feeling.  Thus  for  himself  and  for  art  he 
achieved  the  energy,  the  power,  which  rouses 
to  action,  does  not  lull  to  sleep. 

His  personal  behavior  betrayed  his  temper, 
not  innocent  of  rudeness,  when  he  completely 
reversed  the  accustomed  relations  of  the  nobil- 
ity and  the  artist.  Politically,  he  was  in 
strongest  sympathy  with  the  struggles  in  France 
for  individual  freedom,  for  the  principles  on 
which  stand  our  American  republic  and  na- 

7  97 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

tional  life.  This  was  the  prompting  motive 
of  the  Eroica  Symphony.  Napoleon  then  was 
the  champion  of  Justice,  Equality,  Democracy. 
Common  Sense,  even  of  Universal  Brother- 
hood. What  Schiller  dreamed  in  his  "  Frcude" 
here  was  thought  a  heavenly  reality.  Thus 
Beethoven  found  in  the  opposite  sphere  of 
action  the  echoing  voice  to  his  half-conscious 
mutterings  and  rebellion  against  the  tawdry 
and  tyrannous  feudal  system,  under  which  the 
European  continent  languished.  In  the  Fifth 
Symphony  is,  perhaps,  most  distinctly  the  ut- 
terance of  this  spirit ;  though,  wherever  Bee- 
thoven boldly  and  knowingly  breaks  the  fetters 
of  form,  he  shows  by  unconscious  analogy 
the  quality  of  his  democratic,  iconoclastic 
temper. 

Before  proceeding  to  the  symphonies  them- 
selves, it  is  necessary  to  touch  on  the  true 
limits  of  meaning  in  music.  We  are  apt  to- 
day to  become  supercilious  about  "  programme 
music."  Its  nobility  lies  in  the  fact  that  the 
inner  content  rises  superior  to  the  outward 
beauty.  But  the  question  is  as  to  this  meaning. 
As  it  was  once  thought  translatable  into  human 
prose,  the  language  of  commonplace,  useless 
98 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

for  permanent  things,  and  as  it  was  found  want- 
ing, the  reaction  was  natural  to  the  modern 
theory  of  an  Hanslick :  that  music  is  a  mere 
whimsical  combination  of  tonal  figures  without 
inner  content  or  significance. 

The  meaning  is  certainly  there,  and  it  is  the 
true  kernel ;  but  it  is  an  emotional,  not  an 
intellectual  meaning, — the  kind  that  is  the  es- 
sence of  poetry,  religion,  and  all  good  things  in 
the  world, — the  personal  element  which  makes 
affection.  And  no  other  form  of  utterance  is 
so  powerful  for  its  expression  as  is  music.  In 
reality,  it  seems  to  exist  least  where  there  is 
most  intellectual  meaning,  as  in  a  treatise, 
perfect  in  logic. 

But  the  danger  of  seeking  an  exact  meaning 
in  music  is  great.  Of  the  two  errors,  the  nega- 
tive attitude  is  infinitely  the  safer ;  it  at  least 
brings  no  ridicule  upon  the  art.  As  we  have 
said  before,  the  true  essence  of  music  is  its  un- 
conscious subjective  betrayal  of  a  dominating 
emotion,  in  contrast  with  the  conscious,  objec- 
tive depiction  in  poetry  and  in  the  plastic  arts. 
And  it  is  in  this  unconsciousness  that  lies  its 
overwhelming  strength. 


99 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Symphony  No.  3,  in  $>  (Eroica). 

Much  has  been  said  by  critics  to  reconcile 
Beethoven's  inscription  "  to  celebrate  the  mem- 
ory of  a  great  man,"  to  explain  the  apparent 
irrelevance  of  the  Scherzo  and  Finale.  They 
cannot  see  the  fitness  of  humor  and  triumph 
after  the  funeral.  Marx  sees  pictures  of  a  busy 
camp  and  "  the  joys  of  peace."  Berlioz  finds 
in  the  Scherzo  the  solemn  rites  of  Greek  war- 
riors at  the  grave  of  their  leader.  If  you  must 
have  a  scenic  whole,  Wagner's  is  the  best, — 
Action,  Tragedy,  Serenity,  Love.* 

It  seems  clear  that  all  the  commentators  in- 
sisted on  a  series  of  pictures  ;  they  must  be  told 
a  story  about  each  movement.  No  work  could 
be  fitter  to  test  the  true  limits  of  meaning  in 
music.  Taking  a  natural  view  of  the  com- 
poser's attitude,  he  wrote,  in  the  first  place,  a 
symphony  (not  a  series  of  illustrations,  not  a 
narrative),  of  which  the  burden  was  A  Great 
Man.  All  pictorial  or  narrative  association 
must  be  abandoned,  even  of  a  chronological 
order.  It  is  a  symphony  with  the  dominating 


*  A  good  account  of  the  various  interpretations  is  given 
in  Upton's  "  Standard  Symphonies." 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

feeling  of  a  Hero,  in  its  various  moods.  His 
death  was,  after  all,  as  an  event,  a  small  ele- 
ment. The  song  of  mourning  must  come,  if 
at  all,  in  the  second  movement,  not  merely  ac- 
cording to  tradition,  but  by  the  highest  sense 
of  fitness.  In  the  whole  "  celebration"  the 
mourning  note  must  be  subordinate.  It  is 
somewhat  the  thought  of  Hawthorne  that 
death  is  an  incident  of  our  lives  of  far  less  im- 
portance than  many  a  thought  of  an  unevent- 
ful day.  The  lightness  of  rhythm  of  the 
Scherzo  only  gives  the  touch  of  highest  joy, 
opening  into  the  triumphant  Finale. 

In  the  dangerous  task  of  technical  descrip- 
tion, the  question  is,  How  close  is  the  relation 
between  music  and  meaning?  In  proportion 
to  greatness  it  seems  that  the  conception  is 
apart  from  the  details.  In  lesser  masters  there 
is  little  below  the  sound.  With  the  great  you 
must  stand  off  as  from  a  canvas  of  larger  scope  ; 
you  must  not  be  too  near  the  individual  figures 
to  catch  the  general  plan. 

While  the  beginning  is  almost  graceful,  the 
serious  intent  is  soon  disclosed  where  the  or- 
chestra enters  united ;  the  dance  of  the  violins 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

SECOND  VIOLINS,  VIOLAS. 

Allegro 
con  brio. 


A"Y°  5*  '  5*    -2* 

on  brio.  ^T  •  ^g   •  ^r  • 


r  CELLOS. 

ceases  in  the  abrupt,  severe  tutti  chords,  with  a 
rough  syncopation  which  we  think  original  in 
Brahms.  Still,  this  may  be  a  temporary  con- 
trast. The  question  is  which  is  to  predominate. 
Then  the  melody  sounds  solemnly  in  united 
basses  and  trebles,  with  full  orchestra ;  but  sud- 
denly it  drops  all  severity  in  the  gliding  grace 
of  the  second  melody,  which  is  sung  in  suc- 
cessive and  responsive  snatches  by  the  wood- 
wind and  strings : 

OBOE. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

There  is  certainly  nothing  here  but  careless 
serenity,  whatever  the  title,  the  warning  sound 
of  the  first  melody,  and  other  omens  may 
threaten.  Throughout  there  seems  to  be  a 
tense  balance  or  rivalry  between  solemn  fore- 
boding and  exultant  dance,  predominating  re- 
spectively in  the  two  melodies  in  a  constant 
struggle,  so  uncertain  that  one  is  often  in  a 
curious  mixture  of  terror  and  joy,  save  in  occa- 
sional climaxes  of  clear  triumph  or  in  cadences 
of  idyllic  tranquillity. 

If  we  remember  the  raison  d'etre  of  the  sonata 
form,*  we  must  see  that  the  first  statement  of 
melodies  must  in  itself  give  a  strong  clue  to 
the  whole  symphony.  In  its  clear  enunciation, 
coming  to  a  full  emphatic  close,  followed  by  a 
complete  repetition,  it  must  be  a  prologue,  as  it 
were :  nay  more,  as  it  contains  the  substance 
of  the  most  important  of  the  four  chapters. 
And  so  in  this  strange  vibrating  between  exu- 
berance and  seriousness,  this  curious  balance 
between  childlike  abandon  and  succeeding  vig- 
orous, even  harsh,  solemnity  and  profundity  is 
the  typical  feeling  of  the  Heroic  symphony. 

*  See  Chapter  II. 
103 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

After  the  joyous  and  boisterous  appearance 
of  the  two  melodies  enters  the  ominous  mys- 
tery of  modulation,  uncertain  whispering  of 
fragments  of  the  themes,  followed  by  brief 
tranquillity  in  the  second  melody.  Then 
gloomy  minor  mutterings  of  the  first  in  the 
bass,  increasing  and  reiterating  like  some  funda- 
mental fate,  with  fitful,  hysterical  breaking  into 
the  lightness  of  the  second.  But  its  own 
theme  is  bent  to  serve  the  stern  humor  of  the 
whole  ;  and  soon  the  whole  orchestra  is  striking 
united  hammer-blows  in  eccentric  rhythm  with 
overwhelming  power,  until  suddenly  relieved 
by  a  phrase  of  delicate  pathos  in  the  woodwind, 
with  violins  still  sustaining  the  rhythm  : 


OBOES. 


BASSES,  pits. 


Back  again  to  the  fateful  legend  in  the  basses, 
reiterated  in  minor,  suddenly  relieved  again,  as 
104 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


before.     But  the  new  phrase  expands  in  clario- 
nets and  fagots 


into  a  new  song,  sung  responsively  between 
flutes  and  violins : 


FLUTKS  AND  FIRST  VIOLINS. 


SECOND  VIOLINS. 


*±±±£=&*=** 


1 


H 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Now  comes  the  real  discussion  of  the  main 
subject,  the  vigorous  strife  in  clear  stretto  of 
woodwind,  with  rhythmic  stress : 

FLUTES  AM>  OBOES. 
FAGOTS. 


too  mazed  for  our  sight,  until  it  is  merely  the 
light  oboe  striking  the  phrase  with  resounding 
echo  of  the  rest : 

Woodwind  doublet  ,1*.. :  -e 
and  btlow. 

OBOE.  X" "  I  XT  .: 


Trembling  of  strings  below. 

Then  more  hammer-blows  on  the  chord,  sud- 
denly quieting  before  the  melody,  entering 
simply  and  cheerfully  as  at  first.  But  here  is  a 
sudden  serene  humor  for  our  moody  subject 
in  jolliest  duet  between  horns  and  basses : 

HORNS,  BASSI. 


J  j   -*•  -*-  •  -*•  ^-  •+-  -0*    -»• . 

j.i,. 


dolce. 

//,-.-. 

1 06 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

with  the  other  strings  humming  away  to  the 
dancing  rhythm ;  the  duet  is  taken  up  by 
flutes  and  violins,  then  through  loud  cadence 
into  a  return  to  the  first  part  of  the  movement, 
with  all  its  themes  and  phrases,  principal  and 
secondary,  and  its  changing  moods,  enriched 
with  fuller  treatment. 

Withal  there  is  the  elemental  simplicity  and 
childlike  exuberance  of  Beethoven.  It  is 
wrong  to  think  him  o'ercast  with  intellectual 
motives.  At  once  he  seems  charged  with  pro- 
foundest  emotion  and  lightest  joy.  It  is  the 
balance  of  depth  and  of  humanity  that  makes 
Beethoven  great.  All  doubt  of  the  mood  of 
the  Allegro  is  gone  with  the  audacious  descent 
in  three  succeeding  chords  en  bloc,  defying  the 
laws  of  musical  progression,  and  in  this  defi- 
ance showing  the  intent.*  Though  often  done 
afterwards,  it  never  had  the  same  Promethean 
ring. 

Immediately  thereafter  is  dancing  revel  and 
a  serious  joy,  though  with  greatest  lightness. 
The  whole  understanding  of  the  Third  Sym- 

*  Yet  the  musician  feels  how  the  spirit  of  his  law  is 
not  disturbed. 

107 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

phony  depends  upon  distinguishing  profound 
joy,  even  with  wild  revel,  from  a  careless,  irre- 
sponsible abandon, — the  joy  of  the  Hero  in  an 
universal  cause,  who,  in  his  revel,  feels  a  clear 
right  to  his  exultation. 

The  intensity  of  Beethoven's  feeling  in  his 
conception  of  Napoleon's  ideals  may  be  meas- 
ured by  the  reaction,  when  he  tore  up  the  title- 
page  on  hearing  of  the  emperor's  coronation. 

In  the  second  movement,  the  Funeral  March, 
he  would  go  far  astray  who  would  listen  merely 
for  the  main  melody.  It  is  a  fine  illustration 
of  the  relative  unimportance  in  high  art  of  the 
melody  in  itself.  Throughout  we  are  disap- 
pointed, if  we  tie  our  interest  to  mere  melodic 
beauty  here  and  there.  The  greatness  lies  some- 
how in  the  exalted  tone,  in  the  symbolic  depth 
and  unity  to  which  the  melodic  details  are 
quite  subordinate,  although  they  are  of  course 
the  integral  elements  of  the  whole.  So  it  is 
truly  a  symphonic  work. 

The  initial  melody,  all  in  the  strings,  is  evi- 
dently designed  less  for  its  individual,  indepen- 
dent effect  than  for  its  fitness  with  the  whole 
plan. 

208 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

MARCIA  FUNEBRE.  Adagio  assai. 
STRINGS. 


I 

•-1"1""7 — ~ 


After  it  is  rehearsed  by  the  whole  chorus, 
comes  the  first  of  those  smoothly  gliding, 
soothing  episodes,  which  are  almost  more  beau- 
tiful than  the  subject  itself,  in  the  phrase 


109 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

after  a  climax,  descending  by  another  gentle 
motive,  sung  responsively  by  strings  : 


breaking  into  the  funeral  march  proper,  as  at 
first ;  but  while  the  drum-beats  go  on,  the 
gliding  phrases  are  mainly  sung,  soothing  the 
sorrow  of  the  stiffly  solemn  subject.  After  an- 
other climax  of  the  latter  is  a  striking  con- 
trast :  of  quietest  even  gliding  of  strings,  fol- 
lowed by  sharpest  clang  of  the  wind  and  dull 
beating  of  drums. 

The  first  part,  in  minor,  of  course  closes  dis- 
tinctly. The  Maggiore,  in  C  major,  is  at  first 
mysterious.  What  is  this  serene  moving  of 
oboe  in  one  phrase,  succeeded  by  the  flute, 
with  violas  and  cettos  in  another,  of  evenest 
rhythm,  while  the  violins  are  humming  in 
simplest  strumming  of  pastoral  placidity  ?  It 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


MAGGIORE. 
.  OBOE. 


mm-mm 


p1^^ 

With  octave  above. 


CELLOS  AND  VIOLAS. 


FLI-TE. 


would  be  cheerful,  but  for  the  complexity  of 
the  polyphony.  Before  eight  bars  comes  an 
overpowering  crash  of  whole  orchestra,  fol- 
lowed again  by  the  former  quiet,  self-contained 
singing  of  joint  voices,  now  serenely  continu- 
ing, with  no  funereal  strain  save  the  beating 
of  drums,  with  very  gradual  climax  into  the 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

former  crash.  But  with  all  the  awfulness,  the 
startling  terror  has  been  avoided. 

It  is  surely  clear.  We  are  lifted  away  from 
the  objective  grief  of  mourning  into  the  empy- 
rean of  a  subjective  exaltation  of  the  Hero. 
After  all,  the  mourning  is  not  for  him  ;  for  him 
there  is  naught  but  serenity  and  triumph. 

Back  to  the  thud  of  drums  and  the  awe  of 
the  original  minor.  But  only  for  a  strain.  Here 
is  the  profoundest  of  all,  whether  technically 
or  in  its  general  meaning.  Fagot  and  violin 
strike  out  in  noisy,  dogmatic  counterpoint -on 
dimly  familiar  themes,  of  which  the  most  im- 
portant must  be  the  sombre  guise  (in  minor) 
of  one  of  the  former  quietly  gliding  phrases : 


VIOLIN. 


In  succession,  all  the  voices  strike  into  the 
fateful  chant.  When  the  basses  have  it,  we 
are  overwhelmed  as  in  a  cathedral  with  the 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

convincing  mass  of  its  awing  architecture.  In 
its  closing  climax  the  now  hurried  phrase  is 
nothing  but  the  old  theme  doubled  in  time. 
It  is  all  surely  a  mingling  of  the  feeling  of 
Religion,  of  the  deep  enigma,  in  all  this  com- 
plexity ;  of  life  arid  death,  and  life  thereafter. 
But  the  lull  and  return  to  the  Funeral  March 
is  but  for  a  moment.  After  a  wail  of  violins 
in  the  main  melody,  brass  and  strings  strike 
crashing  into  a  strange  chord.  Again  enters 
in  the  bass  a  reminder  of  the  dogmatic  theme 
carried  on  and  on,  until  suddenly  we  hear  in  its 
very  climax  the  original  funeral  melody  march- 
ing in  the  woodwind,  quite  as  if  a  secondary 
after-thought,  all  in  complete  song.  The  rest 
is  as  at  first,  but  enriched  and  extended,  with 
former  separate  themes  now  united  in  common 
psean,  with  bolder  acclaim  of  rhythmic  strings. 
Where  the  end  might  be  there  is  a  sudden  lull. 
In  quietest  song  is  a  new  melody  with  new 
swing.  In  its  novelty,  its  strange  simplicity,  it 
suggests  a  feeling  of  transfiguration  or  apothe- 
osis of  the  Hero. 

The  ending  is  solemn  and  subdued,  save  a 
single  triumphant  burst  at  the  last.     There  is  a 
curious  touch  in  the  final  singing  of  the  melody, 
s  113 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

with  its  original  rhythm  all  distorted.  It  gives 
a  strange  effect  of  reality,  as  if  the  essence  of 
the  poetry,  spoken  without  the  flesh. 

In  the  Scherzo,  Allegro  Vivace^  we  must  not 
pretend  to  find  anything  but  boisterous  aban- 
don. There  is  no  note  of  the  sombre,  of  the 
sinister,  save  possibly  a  suggestion  of  terror  in 
the  very  vehemence  of  the  mad  delight. 

The  beginning  seems  all  mere  rhythmic 
preparation  in  the  staccato  strings  until  first 
violins  and  oboe  break  into  the  melody : 

Allegro  vivace. 
Strings,  -with  oboe,  an  octave  above. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


The  low  strumming  of  the  first  bass  is  surely 
mere  foil  to  the  bright  humor  of  the  main  theme. 
The  fine  haste  of  the  incessant  tripping,  a  sort 
of  perpetuum  mobile,  is  enhanced  when  the  voices 
leap  one  over  the  other  in  canon  form : 

X 


CELLOS. 

overturning  melodies  head  over  heels,  losing 
accent  in  their  mad  haste.  And,  later,  a  still 
more  splendid  stretto,  in  whole  orchestra,  be- 
tween the  measures  of  trebles  and  of  basses : 


FULL  ORCHESTRA. 


Basses  an  octave  below. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


higher  and  higher  in  the  chasing  game,  until 
they  all  fall  together  in  headlong  rhythm  : 

J 


ff  in  unison  and  octaves.  I   s^,"r" 

tr       I 

On  their  feet  again  and  off  tripping  as  before. 
No  depth  or  complexity,  save  quite  incident- 
ally where  the  simultaneous  phrases  of  first 
.and  second  violins  were  reversed,  the  lower 
above  the  higher, — a  master-stroke  (what  the 
scholars  call  double  counterpoint),  all  quickly 
in  passing. 

The  TRIO  accents  the  deeper  humor  in  a 
horn  melody  that  savors  unmistakably  of  the 
chase. 

But  its  sustained  tones  only  imply  the  pre- 
ix6 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

TRIO.  HORNS. 


vious  rhythm,  and  soon  run  into  its  wild  gait ; 
back  again  into  the  sonorous  horn  theme, — . 
finally  occasional  lapses,  as  if  sighing  for  a 
moment's  thought  before  the  Scherzo,  which 
rushes  past  with  the  same  melodies  in  close 
texture  extended  in  a  coda,  where  we  are 
hovering  uncertain  between  humor  and  serious 
triumph. 

There  can  be  no  question  about  the  mood 
of  the   Finale,  Allegro   molto.     We  need  not 
speculate  nor  philosophize  deeply,  yet  there  is 
a  rare  chance  for  a  mistake. 
117 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

There  is  no  doubt  about  the  unreined 
joyous  elation  of  the  whole.  And  yet  it  is 
most  natural  at  first  hearing  to  find  nothing 
profounder  than  lightest  romp  and  revel.  But 
there  is  no  music  where  there  is  closer  relation 
between  the  notes  and  the  sense,  this  higher 
content.  Therefore,  with  no  more  ado  to 
the  reading.  The  opening  bars  are  of  course 
a  mere  fanfare  of  strings  in  preparatory  (dom- 
inant) chord  for  the  melody  (in  the  tonic). 
What  a  strange  theme !  All  in  pizzicato^ 
unison  strings : 


Strings  doubled  in  two  lower  octaves. 


almost  a  jest  in  its  simplicity,  and  repeated  in 
eccentric  echoing  of  woodwind,  and  ended  with 
comic,  loud  striking  of  common  note,  and 
lightly  tripping  off  with  the  same  stealthy 
pace. 

ill 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Next  the  melody  is  sounded  by  one  set  of 
strings  in  sustained  half-notes,  instead  of  timid 
staccato,  while  the  others  dance  about  with 
snatches  and  phrases  which  seem  to  fit  as  well 
above  the  melody  as  below.  We  now  see  the 
deeper  design  which  gradually  breaks  on  us, 
that  lends  a  profounder  dignity, — a  feeling 
of  completeness,  of  universality.  And  yet  the 
design  is  not  conscious,  but  that  curious  star- 
guided  intention  of  the  master.  And  the  un- 
consciousness but  gives  it  the  greater  dignity 
and  meaning. 

What  seemed  the  main  melody  is  now 
relegated  to  insignificant  basses,  and  a  new 
chrysalis  of  tune  gently  dances  aloft  in  wood- 
wind, reckless  of  its  dethroned  predecessor 
under  its  feet : 


WOODWIND  (with  a  running  figure  in  violins). 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


There  is  no  mere  reminiscent  pretence,  but 
the  whole  melody  with  the  second  above,  the 
answer,  even,  with  the  heavy  chords,  and  the 
final  phrase 


all  in  heaven-made  union.  But  now  the  origi- 
nal theme  is  restored  to  dignity  as  sonorous 
subject  of  serious  fugue,  with  the  surrounding 
phrases  which  give  life  to  the  rhythm : 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

VIOLINS.  CLARIONET. 


CELLOS. 


through  the  four  strings  down  to  the  funda- 
mental bassi,  with  attempts  of  woodwind  to 
have  their  say. 

It  is  clear  that  the  theme  has  that  peculiar 
quality  of  basic  motto  which  we  saw  in  the 
Finale  of  the  Jupiter,  and  which  we  shall  see 
further  in  Beethoven's  symphonies.  In  it 
the  masters  expressed  the  sense  of  profound 
groping  for  fundamental  truth  which  is  strong 
in  their  compatriot  and  contemporary  poets, 
which  gave  that  peculiar  charm  and  strength 
of  blended  philosophy  and  fancy  to  the  works 
of  Goethe. 

The  plot  thickens  as  the  theme  enters  dimin- 
ished in  tempo  and  in  close  stretto, — still  further 
diminished,  and  we  wonder  what  comes  next 
in  the  maze,  when  suddenly  out  of  the  sombre 
dogmatic  learning  dances  forth,  like  fairy  queen, 
with  quick  surprise  of  modulation,  the  second 
melody  in  a  minor  key,  where  it  loses  none  of 
its  lightness,  gaining  a  novel  charm  of  mystery : 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

STRINGS. 


rehearsed  with  daintily  comic  change  of  rhythm 
in  woodwind  : 


FLUTES. 
8va.. 


After  some  clownish  horseplay  in  the  strings, 
applauded  by  the  rest,  all  join  in  a  big,  ponder- 
ous cosmic  dance: 

FLUTES,  OBOES,  FAGOTS,  VIOLINS. 


sempre  f    Basses  in  octaves. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

cosmic  because  of  its  primeval  simplicity,  and 
because  we  hear  the  same  fundamental  motto 
in  the  basses. 

It  has  somehow  the ,  spirit  and  ring  of  uni- 
versality of  Schiller's  Ode  to  Joy,  proven  in  its 
simple  completeness.  The  new  dance  extends 
its  melody,  with  the  motto  both  above  and  be- 
low, coming  to  what  seems  a  complete  close  of 
full  orchestra.  But  suddenly  off  again  into  un- 
expected regions  of  tone  on  the  wings  of  the 
second 'melody,  then  into  the  mysterious  phases 
of  the  minor,  the  motto  always  present  above 
or  below.  Once  more  we  are  in  the  fugue,  in 
the  dogmatic  humor ;  but  now  it  builds  more 
broadly  and  fully  in  a  joyous  climax,  which  sud- 
denly drops  into  a  religious  chant  of  the  wood- 
wind in  the  scarce  recognizable  second  melody  : 


OBOE,  CLARIONETS 

Poco  andante. 

S          I 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

in  sustained,  solemn  organ  tones,  softened  in 
spirit,  echoed  by  the  strings.  The  answer  in 
second  part  is  in  more  graceful  lyric  feeling. 
Suddenly  into  vehement  clanging  of  tutti,  with 
the  same  melody  in  basses ;  here  again  a  lull  in 
volume  and  rhythm,  only  to  end  through  the 
original  fanfare,  in  furious  galloping  of  the 
theme,  in  various  rhythmic  guises,  in  loudest, 
most  emphatic  close. 


VI 

BEETHOVEN  (CONTINUED) 

The  Seventh  Symphony. 

IN  spite  of  the  remark  in  the  last  chapter  on 
the  new  quality  of  Beethoven,  in  advance  of 
Haydn  and  Mozart,  of  the  element  of  a  mean- 
ing, it  is  very  necessary  to  mark  the  purely 
sentient,  naive,  non-intellectual  (I  should  rather 
not  say  emotional)  character  of  Beethoven. 
And  this  is  best  seen  in  the  seventh  symphony, 
especially  as  against  the  third,  the  fifth,  the 
sixth,  and  the  ninth.  On  the  whole,  the  un- 
titled  symphonies  are  much  to  be  preferred. 

We  must  be  careful  to  reject  absolutely  any 
theory  of  story  or  description,  except  where 
the  master  himself  gives  it.  And  there,  as  in 
the  sixth,  it  is  not  a  success, — the  highest  proof 
of  the  superiority  of  absolute  music.  The 
test,  after  all,  is  the  purely  musical  impression, 
but  not  in  an  unthinking  attitude.  Beethoven's 
greatness  (and  that  of  Brahms,  too)  is  shown 
by  his  refusal  to  be  categoried,  to  have  his  emo- 
125 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

tion  narrowed  and  whittled  down  to  answer  a 
picture  or  story.  In  a  very  large  degree,  pro- 
gramme music  is,  after  all,  a  pretty,  intellec- 
tual game,  a  subtle  flattery,  a  mental  feat,  a 
guess  at  conundrums.  Generally,  there  is  a 
real  loss  in  the  apparent  gain.  If  the  emo- 
tional is  the  true  attitude,  it  can  be  seen  how 
the  title,  by  absorbing  attention,  prevents  a 
pure  enjoyment  and  the  test  by  natural  per- 
ception. Creating  a  false  interest,  the  label 
withdraws  the  normal,  unbiassed  attention  from 
the  music  itself,  preconceiving  the  mind  to  an  a 
priori,  arbitrary  connection  or  significance.  In 
one  way,  entitled  music  is  like  the  clever  juggler 
who  tricks  by  diverting  attention  from  the  real 
to  a  pretended  act ;  in  another,  it  is  like  the 
poor  painter  who  holds  the  witless  mind  by 
the  strength,  not  of  his  art,  but  of  the  printed 
label. 

Schumann's  view  of  programme  music  was 
the  true  one, — the  title  distinctly  and  literally 
an  after-thought.  If  the  impelling  feeling  must 
be  unconscious,  the  poet  cannot  know,  until  he 
has  finished,  the  word  that  explains  his  mood. 
This  is  the  true  view  of  the  ninth  symphony, — 
a  spontaneous  burst  into  song,  not  beautifully 
126 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

preconceived  and  prearranged,  as  of  voices  that 
could  no  longer  contain  the  feeling  stirred  by 
the  earlier  music. 

Implication  of  meaning  came  largely  from 
ultra-radicals  like  Berlioz,  who  wanted,  mis- 
takenly, to  raise  the  dignity  of  music  by  im- 
puting to  it  a  power  which  it  could  not,  in 
the  nature  of  things,  possess.  Their  artistic 
sense  was  blurred  by  the  philosophical.  They 
confused  the  true  limits  of  music  and  prose. 
Hence  their  incomplete  work  (as  in  all  opera), 
seeking  to  eke  out  their  music  with  a  "  mean- 
ing." Our  genuine  gain  in  joyousness  from  an 
untitled  work  of  pure  music  is  much  greater 
than  the  temporary  flattery  of  seeing,  or  seem- 
ing to  see,  a  subtle  significance. 

For  this  reason,  it  seems  well  for  this  once 
to  choose  a  work  absolutely  free  from  the 
taint  of  attempted  translation ;  deliberately  to 
avoid  pictured  or  storied  explanations ;  simply 
to  get  the  true  musical  impression,  not  without 
keen  study,  at  once  as  a  rare  example  and  an 
illustration  of  the  real  attitude  of  the  listener. 
Or,  if  we  hear  of  explanations,  let  us  take  them 
only  to  reject,  with  presumption  against  all ; 
for,  at  most,  but  one  of  them  can  be  true. 
127 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Such  an  ideal  symphony  is  the  seventh.  It 
is  impossible  to  escape  the  din  of  the  critics 
who  shout  their  labels  at  us, — their  "  Rustic 
Wedding,"  "  Moorish  Knighthood,"  "  Masked 
Ball,"  "  Pastoral  Scenes."  *  But  men  will  for- 
get that  the  more  a  work  refuses  definition,  the 
greater  it  is.  In  proportion  as  the  interpreta- 
tion is  general,  it  is  apt  to  be  true.  It  is  all 
part  of  our  human  impulse  to  limit,  to  circum- 
scribe everything  and  everybody  but  ourselves, 
in  order  to  make  clear  and  easy  to  understand.t 
We  are  in  too  great  haste  to  solve  all  puzzles 
by  force,  to  cut  the  Gordian  knot.  One  more 
observation  on  these  critics:  How  each  one 
understands  or  receives  exactly  according  to 
his  capacity,  just  like  so  many  vessels  of  vary- 
ing size,  is  nowhere  so  clearly  shown  as  in 
symphonic  commentaries.  And  this  is  a  great 
truth,  and  the  best  view  of  criticism.  Thus 
each  has  a  right,  without  pretence  of  judicial 

*  If  I  had  to  join  in  the  chorus,  I  should  call  it  "  The 
Earthly  Symphony," — Goethe's 

"  Wirklich  Ut  es  wunderschdn 
Auf  der  liebcn  Erde." 

f  Also,  I  fear,  from  a  less  worthy  motive  of"  deprecia- 
tion. 

128 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

authority,  to  tell  the  other  how  he  feels  about 
it ;  and  each  one  is  giving  something  of  himself. 

One  common  quality  has  been  read  in  the 
seventh  symphony  by  so  many  commentators, 
that  the  latest  critic  must  naturally  emphasize 
an  opposite  element  which  seems  to  him  to  have 
been  overlooked.  All  agree  in  the  bewitching 
rhythmic  spell  that  shines  through  every  bar  of 
the  symphony.  But  where  we  must  differ  with 
many  interpreters  is  in  the  degree  of  lightness 
(or  of  seriousness)  which  they  find.  It  seems 
as  if  many  view  merely  the  fact  of  the  dance- 
rhythm,  and  of  the  simple  melodies,  without 
feeling  the  bigness,  the  fundamental  depth  of 
the  orchestral  treatment.  But,  avoiding  the 
danger  from  preconceived  theory,  let  us  listen  : 

The  beginning  is  serious,  the  slow  Sostenuto 
of  Haydn, — of  Brahms,  too.  But  Beethoven 
could  not,  with  the  light  intent  of  an  Offen- 
bach, sound  a  solemn  prelude,  only  to  dance 
away  into  frivolity  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 
Therefore  this  beginning  is  significant.  Then, 
a  symphony  must  begin  simply,  alone  to  show 

its  scope. 

129 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Out  of  heavy  bursts  of  chords  floats  a  quiet, 
legend-like  theme,  in  primal  intervals  (some- 
what as  in  the  Eroica),  in  succeeding  strains  of 
the  woodwind : 

OBOE. 


CLARIONETS. 
fp 


In  both  is  that  German,  profound  philosoph- 
ical impulse  to  find  the  mystic  formula,  the 
pervading  cosmic  principle,  as  in  the  second 
part  of  Faust ;  the  feeling,  too,  of  Mozart's 
favorite  motto,*  in  the  Jupiter  symphony  and 
elsewhere.  The  literal  musician,  the  '*  Fach- 
manri,"  will  say  that  these  themes  are  chosen 
for  their  capacity  for  development.  But  this 
is  exactly  the  wrong  idea.  He  fails  to  see 
below  the  black  notes  on  the  surface.  He 
treats  music  as  a  branch  of  mathematics,  for- 


*  See  Chapter  IV. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


getting  entirely  our  definition  of  the  Uncon- 
scious Arithmetician. 

After  a  few  bars  of  solemn  chanting  of  the 
legend,  there  is  a  gentle  stir  of  motion  in  the 
strings,  which  gradually  infects  the  .rest.  With 
the  quiet  theme  still  pervading,  the  whole  slowly 
gathers  movement, — this  is  the  clearest  impres- 
sion ;  still,  the  motto  constantly  completing  and 
rounding  out.  As  it  grows  to  overpowering  di- 
mensions, there  suddenly  breaks  through  a  mel- 
ody, not  of  dance,  but  of  the  most  tensely  pent 
desire  for  rhythm,  in  harmony  of  woodwind  : 

OBOES,  CLARIONETS. 


Lf 

P  dolce.  WOODWIND. 


a  call  for  the  dance,  oft  repeated,  high  in  the 
woodwind  and  low  in  the  strings  (interrupted 
by  the  earlier  phase).  Then  there  is  a  gradual 
joining  of  hands,  getting  ready.  Some  begin  ; 
all  are  still  moving  imperfectly.  Soon  the 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


whole  movement  grows  strong  and  united  into 
a  Vivace  dance,  led  by  the  woodwind  : 

FLUTES,  OBOES,  CLARIONETS. 


Sempre  piano. 


FAGOTS,  HORNS 


_ 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


The  strings  at  first  merely  strum  iightly  in 
time.  But  soon  they  take  a  higher  part,  in 
echoing  response : 

IVoodunnd  in  octaves. 
^ 


Strings  in  double  octaves  below 


As  the  bass  strings  thus  dance  the  time  in 
counter-movement,  the  whole  is  too  ponderous 
for  frivolity ;  it  becomes  deep.  This  must  be 
seen  throughout.  If  the  basses  gave  a  mere 
xhythmic  step,  it  would  be  otherwise.  Their 
active  vocal  part  gives  a  cosmic  color  to  the 
whole.  The  dancing  melody  is  so  continuous 
that  it  seems  impossible  as  well  as  needless  to 
distinguish  first  and  second  themes.  It  is  all 
so  clear.  Like  a  great  round  dance,  they  stop, 
and,  gathering  with  a  run,  begin  again  the  more 
furiously,  now  holding  with  a  long  step  to  return 
to  the  rhythm,  suddenly  in  quietest,  daintiest 
skipping  still  softer,  then  in  bold,  loud  chorus, 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

always  this  united  feeling  of  a  mass  in  unison, 
not  of  a  small  group, — a  dancing  song  with 
changing  phases ;  sometimes  the  song  is  every- 
thing, then  it  is  a  mere  dance  again. 

We  must  remember,  here  as  ever,  this  dance 
is  merely  symbolic.  We  must  not  try  to  find 
a  picture  of  it,  nor  to  see  it  everywhere.  It  is 
only  a  figure,  a  passing  image  of  a  much 
greater  idea  or  feeling.  The  joint  dance  of  all 
is  the  common  uniting  of  mankind  in  joy,  as 
was  proclaimed  in  those  days  by  poets  in  verse 
and  tone,  and  might  well  be  proclaimed  now 
anew.  In  another  view,  it  shows  how  Bee- 
thoven combined  purest  exuberance  with  pro- 
foundest  sympathy. 

And,  after  the  repeated  statement,  the  period 
of  discussion  (to  avoid  the  hated  "develop- 
ment") shows  the  symbolic  quality  most 
strongly.  For  here,  in  the  much  weakened, 
almost  halting  rhythm,  is  the  separate  indi- 
vidual wandering  off,  clearest  in  the  contra- 
puntal process.  The  hue  of  metaphysics  is  on. 
Up  and  down,  one  against  the  other,  in  the 
gray,  colorless  straying  of  independent  indi- 
viduals, the  common  bond  is  relaxed  and  for- 
gotten, only  to  join  once  again,  with  gradual 

'34 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

uniting,  in  the  universal  rhythm.  If  the  dance 
is  symbolic,  the  wandering  is  separate  thought 
and  action,  independent,  though  not  without 
interdependence.  But  ever  again,  after  the  ten- 
dency to  stray  apart  in  disunion  and  discord, 
comes  the  magnificent  joining  in  the  common 
movement  and  song. 

Allegretto  is  the  nearest  approach  Beethoven 
can  make  to  the  mood  of  pathos  in  this  poem 
of  Earth  and  Humanity.  In  this  balance  of 
rhythm  with  solemnity  is,  to  us,  one  of  the 
highest  of  all  inspirations.  It  is  in  a  vein  rare  to 
Beethoven,  wherein  we  see  much  kinship  with 
Schubert.  The  spirit  of  this  Allegretto  must  have 
stirred  in  the  younger  master  when  he  thought 
his  famous  melody  of  the  song,  "Death  and 
the  Maiden."  We  cannot  escape,  again,  the 
mystic  German  groping  for  fundamental  truth 
in  a  single  motto ;  as,  first,  the  essential  har- 
monic and  rhythmic  plan  is  simply  stated  in 
lower  strings,  with  sombre,  broken  sounds : 

VIOLA,  CELLI,  BASSI.  .     . 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


i  'n  j       j  j   ji 


'  u  T  I  r  tj- 


and  then  the  melodic  song  surges  above  in 


l^=l^Tl 

•j*r  •    •*-*--*  V  •*• 


clear,  sustained  tones,  while  the  former  fateful 
dirge  continues  its  solemn,  unaltered  march. 

The  second  melody,  in  major,  abandons  the 
solemn  vein,  in  a  strain  of  purest  lyric  feeling, 
human  and  mortal,  not  of  eternal  truth. 
Strangely,  it  reminds  us  of  quite  another 
vein  of  Schubert,  frequent  in  his  impromptus. 
But  there  is  no  complete  escape  from  the 
old  rhythmic  beat  which  keeps  dinning  on 
in  the  bass  against  the  swinging  melody  of 
violins : 

'36 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


The  lyric  love-song  is  over,  and  now  we  are 
alone  with  the  mournful  hymn,  but  this  is  sung 
with  greater  freedom  and  lightness.  Suddenly 
the  strings  alone  strike  into  a  monkish  fugue 
on  the  original  theme  in  thin,  ominous  tones, 
with  unceasing  course  of  the  monotonous, 
rhythmless  countertheme,  all  in  pious  submis- 
sion to  fate.  But  now  fugal  and  counter- 
theme  both  are  rung  with  overwhelming  power 
by  the  whole  orchestra.  Once  more  the  strain 
of  human  longing  is  heard.  Then  comes  the 
end  in  the  same  dull,  broken,  fateful  sounds, 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


with  a  strange  wail  in  the   violins  with  the 
closing  chord,  as  of  a  dying  soul. 

Scherzo.     Presto. 

Now  for  the  dance  in  earnest.  It  is  the 
natural  climax  for  such  a  symphony,  this  third 
phase ;  the  very  acme  and  essence  of  rhythm. 
All  the  pent-up  motion  is  let  loose,  yet  not  in 
wild  disorder,  but  all  in  unconscious  though 
perfect  obedience  to  a  subtle  swing.  As  else- 
where, the  highest  sum  or  quantity  of  motion 
is  only  possible  with  regularity  and  harmony 
simultaneously  and  successively,  as  of  horses 
drawing  a  chariot.  They  must  all  race  in 
one  united  agreement  of  a  common  speed,  for 
real  achievement  of  motion.  And  never  was 
Offenbach  or  Strauss  half  so  light  as  this  pro- 
foundly serious  master  of  ours. 

Presto. 
Tuttl.    Woodwind  in  octave  below. 


WOOD 

STR 


Basses  strumming  below. 
138 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


gHr    p     j» }__^fziz? p_ 


iii 


ipff 


z^=li=:^= 


— g     • ~ 

-<g..  • 


And  were  long-sustained  notes  ever  so  in- 
viting to  the  dance,  so  subtly  alive  with  motion  : 


STRINGS. 


or  in  the  oft-repeated  humming  in  flute  and 
clarionets,  like  hovering  insects  : 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

But  much  greater  is  this  subtle  implication 
of  motion  in  the  Trio,  where  with  violins  sus- 
taining a  long  A  in  octaves,  the  droning  horns, 
fagots,  and  clarionets  are  sjnging,  in  diminished 
speed,  a  new  theme : 


It  is  a  typical  union  of  highest  feeling  and 
art.  With  violins  sustained  on  a  high  tone, 
giving  merely  a  rare  quiver,  it  is  like  the  con- 
stant buzzing  of  forest  bees,  but  so  subtle  that 
it  is  for  ruder  ears  really  a  rest  with  highest 
motion,  much  as  the  humming-bird,  with  wings 
vibrating  in  invisible  motion,  seems  to  rest  on 
hidden  threads,  or  like  the  pulse  of  sound 
itself,  which  is  so  rapid  that  it  becomes  one 
sustained  tone.  But  this  is  only  around  and 
about.  Through  the  midst  comes  the  quiet, 
intimate  song  of  the  woodwind ;  emerging 
140 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

from  nature  sounds,  it  speaks  human  senti- 
ment. There  is  no  mistaking  this  in  the  quiet, 
definite  notes  of  the  song.  It  is  too  artic- 
ulate in  its  contrast  with  the  vaguely  quivering, 
buzzing  wood-notes.  And  later  the  song  is 
ever  more  human,  almost  pleading,  save  for  its 
quiet,  constant  rhythm : 

WOODWIND. 


Doubled  above 
dolce. 


The  horns  begin  a  gradual  stir  of  rhythm ; 
more  and  more  enter,  until  all  the  world,  man 
and  nature,  with  overwhelming  power,  have 
joined  in  our  sweetly  solemn  song. 

It  is  really,  all  this  Trio,  a  sort  of  idyllic 
rest  in  the  woods,  from  which  we  are  whirled 
by  a  sudden  shock  back  to  the  impersonal 
frolic  of  the  original  scherzo,  with  all  its  romp- 
ing joy,  in  full  career  to  the  end,  not  without 
several  returns  to  the  musing  revery  of  the 
141 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

song  of  the  Trio.  And  withal  there  is  never 
a  break  in  the  relentless,  resistless  motion, 
intensely  rhythmic  in  all  its  disguise. 

The  Finale  is  a  big,  almost  a  serious  aban- 
don. With  the  infectious,  resistless  dance  is  a 
certain  ponderousness, — above  all,  a  simplicity 
which  betrays  its  universality.  It  is  greater 
than  national,  though  there  is  the  suggestion  of 
national  song.  The  primitive  simplicity  is 
shown  in  the  absence  of  defined  melody,  of 
varied  tonality,  of  contrast  of  rhythm.  It  is 
hard  to  find  any  official  themes  in  the  whole 
melodious  tissue,  and  the  complementary 
chords,  of  tonic  and  dominant,  are  rung  with 
almost  barbarous  plainness.  Magnetic  as  is  the 
dance,  it  is  in  the  simplest  conceivable  rhythm  : 


There  are  no  contrasts,  save  in  the  suddeli 
light  tripping  after  the  ponderous  clog  of  the 
whole  orchestra. 

If  any  theme  can  be  called  the  subject,  it 

'42 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


is  in  the  pervading  figure  (first  in  the  violins), 
after  rhythmic  chords  : 


Allegro  con  brio. 


(  With  harmony  in  the  strings.) 
FLUTES  AND  OBOES. 


CLARIONETS,  FAGOTS. 

where  all  the  woodwind  comes  dancing  in  on 
ponderous,  eccentric  skip  at  the  end  of  the 
bar.  It  is  in  the  very  lack  of  pretence,  of 
conscious  beauty  of  outline,  or  of  significance 
in  the  melodies,  that  consists  the  feeling  of 
romp.  And  yet  we  must  always  come  back 
to  that  quality  of  joy  which  we  saw  in  the  first 
movement,  which  seems  special  to  our  master, 
as  it  is  to  the  highest  poetic  feeling :  of  pro- 
fundity. Nothing  could  be  more  reckless, 
irresponsible  in  its  abandon,  than  this  rollick- 
ing Finale ;  but  no  one  can  think  of  it  as 
143 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

frivolous,  can  escape  its  stamp  of  universality 
and  eternity. 

On  it  goes,  after  first  repeating  of  melody, 
followed  by  mere  running  up  and  down  of  all 
the  wind,  with  strings  beating  the  time.  They 
change  about.  Then  a  bandying  of  the  origi- 
nal phrase  in  the  strings : 


STRINGS. 


with  a  mere  suspicion  of  logic,  of  discussion, 
followed  immediately  by  the  simplest,  most 
childlike  dancing  up  and  down  in  the  primi- 
tive rhythm  (cited  above),  as  if  to  reject  the 


144 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

very  suggestion  of  conscious  thought,  all  to- 
gether, hand  in  hand,  in  unison  step,  until  the 
first  contrast,  to  which  we  alluded  above. 

As  all  stop  on  a  sudden  chord,  the  violins 
trip  lightly  along,  to  the  strumming  of  strings 
alone,  with  sudden  shock  of  interrupting  chorus, 
like  clownish  attempts  at  frightening : 


STRINGS. 


^^±=^f=f^=f^=f^ 

~-4f = — -« — a — = *3- *T- " " 


The  finest  romping  on,  all  stamping  heavily 
together,  with  eccentric  thud,  followed  by 
lightest  tripping  chase  of  strings  up  and  down, 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  very  ideal  of  frolic.  After  repetition  of  all 
of  this,  we  are  curious  how  far  the  master  will 
ascend  (or  descend)  to  the  region  of  reflective 
thought  in  what  German  technique  calls  the 
Durchfuhrung.  But  all  we  can  discover  is,  after 
careering  and  coursing  of  the  leading  figure,  a 
little  wondering  pause  in  violins,  echoed  or 
mimicked  by  lower  strings : 


plunging  back  into  the  rollicking  swing.  Later, 
as  the  high  woodwind  echoes  the  dance,  there 
is  a  queer  effect  of  mockery  of  this  reflecting 
figure  in  the  violins,  in  quick  successive  an- 
swers, after  which  there  is  a  return  to  the 
original  festivity,  with  deepening  and  extend- 
ing of  the  little  discussion  (above  quoted). 
The  ending  corresponds  in  increased  boister- 
ousness,  with  a  full  sounding  of  the  pervading 
146 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

phrase,  together  with  an  answer  developed  in 
the  discussion  above  described,  which  seems  to 
vent  the  bursting  feeling  in  an  almost  articulate 
phrase  of  exultation  : 

WOODWIND. 


The  Fifth  Symphony. 

We  have  so  far  conceived  a  symphony  as 
an  expression  of  a  dominant  feeling,  from  a 
subjective  stand-point,  or,  objectively,  as  a  view 
of  life,  in  four  typical  phases  or  moods,  of 
which  the  first  is  of  aspiring  resolution,  the 
second  of  pathos,  the  third  of  humor,  the 
the  fourth  of  triumph.  With  such  a  plan, 
which  was  gradually  and  unconsciously  devel- 
oped from  Haydn  to  Beethoven,  we  could  not 
expect  a  great  number  of  symphonies  from  one 
master.  A  man's  pervading,  fundamental  feeling 
147 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

or  view  could  not  change  so  as  to  permit  him 
to  write  two  such  symphonies  in  quick  succes- 
sion.* But  this  purpose  may  be  called  the  high- 
est. There  are  really  two  kinds  of  symphonies, 
the  titled,  and  the  untitled,  where  the  range 
of  feeling  is  narrowed,  more  or  less,  in  some 
way.  And  we  might  even  distinguish  a  third 
class,  where  there  is  a  mere  suggestion,  by  in- 
scription or  by  a  cursory  remark  of  the  com- 
poser, of  the  prevailing  mood,  contrasted  with 
those  works  in  which  there  is  an  expressly 
limited  field  from  the  beginning.  Of  course, 
we  must  never  forget  the  unconsciousness  of 
masters  of  these  general  or  special  purposes. 

A  very  striking  example  of  the  specially  titled 
symphony  is  Beethoven's  Sixth,  the  Pastoral, 
"on  the  memories  of  life  in  the  country."  We 
have  described  the  Heroic  Symphony,  written 
"  to  celebrate  the  memory  of  a  great  man."  In 
more  modern  works  such  titles  as  Spring, 
Forest,  Winter,  Rhine  are  prominent. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  the  importing  of  titles 

*  Mozart's  rapid  composition  of  his  three  great  sym- 
phonies must  be  viewed  rather  as  the  completion  of 
earlier  sketches. 

148 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

into  the  symphony,  the  introduction  of  what 
is  called  programme  music,  in  itself  has  added 
to  its  dignity  or  power.  Perhaps  the  best  type  is 
Beethoven's  Pastoral,  which  is  annotated  thus : 
First  Movement,  Pleasant  Feelings  awakened 
on  arriving  in  the  Country ;  Second,  Scene  at 
the  Brook ;  Third,  Jovial  Meeting  of  Country 
People,  interrupted  by  Fourth,  Thunder  and 
Storm,  in  turn  interrupted  by  the  final  mjve- 
ment,  entitled  Sentiments  of  Benevolence  and 
Gratitude  to  God  after  the  Storm.  Of  course, 
it  is  impossible  not  to  accept  the  composer's  in- 
terpretation. But  it  must  be  remembered  that 
in  his  sketches  an  appended  note  was  fcjnd, 
directing  the  hearer  to  find  the  situation^  for 
himself;  and,  further,  that  in  the  final  pro- 
gramme Beethoven  added  to  the  title  the 
words,  "  Rather  an  Expression  of  Feeling  chan 
a  Picture.".  If  we  should  be  obliged  to  dis- 
pense with  any  of  Beethoven's  symphonies, 
I  venture  to  say  that .  in  the  Pastoral  least 
would  IDC  lost.  It  is  not  overbold  to  say  that 
Beethoven  himself  was  not  consciously  aware 
of  the  true  dignity  and  power  of  the  sym- 
phony. Truth  in  art  is  determined,  not  by 

reasoned  a  -priori  deduction,  but  by  an  irregular 
149 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

course  of  experiment,  where  much  error  must 
be  expected. 

In  choosing  from  the  rich  field  a  single  work 
as  a  type  for  illustration,  from  the  limits  of  the 
untitled  class,  the  Fifth,  in  C  Minor,  seems  the 
most  broadly  representative.  The  work  was 
produced  in  1808,  having  been  for  years  in 
course  of  composition.  No  title  appears  in 
the  programme,  except 

Symphony  No.  5,  in  C  Minor,  op.  67. 

1.  Allegro  con  Brio. 

2.  Andante  con  Moto. 

3.  Allegro  (Scherzo). 

4.  Allegro.     Presto. 

There  is,  perhaps,  one  prejudice  to  the  un- 
assisted interpretation.  It  is  Beethoven's  re- 
ported casual  suggestion  of  a  meaning  of  the 
principal  motive ;  but  for  the  present  that 
may  be  disregarded.  The  symphony  is  char- 
acterized by  a  sublime  dignity,  vigor,  and 
breadth.  At  the  first  hearing  it  is  impossible 
not  to  feel  that  there  is  a  very  real  purpose 
behind  the  notes.  The  entire  absence  of  friv- 
olous dallying  with  themes,  the  striking  con- 
trast of  succeeding  melodies  (especially  towards 
the  end  of  the  third  and  fourth  movements, 
150 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

which,  against  all  tradition,  follow  each  other 
without  a  stop),  above  all,  the  iteration  from 
beginning  to  end  of  a  certain  short  passage, 
but  four  notes : 


with  the  whole  orchestra  at  times  hidden  in 
the  basses  and  drums,  now  in  its  grim,  terrible 
severity,  again  in  a  dancing  measure,  then  in 
timid,  mysterious  discord,  until  it  ends  in  the 
clearest  note  of  triumph, — can  it  be  said  that 
all  this  means  nothing,  until  or  unless  it  be 
translated  word  for  note  into  the  language  of 
commonplace  ? 

As  in  all  truly  great  works  of  the  human 
mind,  there  must  be  a  certain  degree  of  intelli- 
gent perception.  Further,  a  certain  maturity 
is  absolutely  necessary  to  understand  Beetho- 
ven. He  is  not  for  the  young ;  above  all,  not 
for  the  shallow.  For  these  he  is  often  no  more 
than  ugly  and  ominous  noise,  which  makes 
them  uneasy.  They  should  shun  him.  His 
listeners  must  be  capable  of  feeling  the  grim- 
ness,  the  terror,  the  fight  of  life.  Then  they 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

can  exult  with  him  in  the  triumphant  joy  of 
the  undaunted. 

The  recurring  problem  of  musical  study  is 
the  mode  of  this  perception.  There  has 
always  been  a  dilemma  between  a  mere  sympa- 
thetic, emotional  attitude  and  that  of  technical 
analysis.  Neither  is  adequate.  The  answer 
must  be  in  analogy  to  the  truth  of  the  mode 
of  creation,  which  is  a  blending  of  feeling  and 
of  high  art,  where  the  latter  is  subordinate,  yet 
indispensable  as  unconscious  means  of  expres- 
sion. So  the  listener  cannot  expect  to  perceive 
unless  he  know  this  high  language  of  the 
master.  Yet  in  mere  analysis  he  will  not  find 
the  message ;  for  art  does  not  communicate 
propositions  by  logical  proof.  The  listener 
must  be  in  sympathetic,  expectant  attitude, 
not  closed  like  a  fortress  to  the  besieger,  not 
disdaining  the  utmost  knowledge  of  the  art- 
medium,  with  mind  fully  intent  on  the  emo- 
tional meaning,  by  a  similar  blending,  as  of 
the  original  composer. 

We    might   revert    briefly  to   some  special 

step  in  Beethoven's  advance.      It  was  in  the 

third   movement    that    Beethoven    made   the 

greatest   change    in  outline.     Originally,  with 

152 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Haydn  and  Mozart,  it  was  an  idealized  dance ; 
Beethoven  made  it  a  humorous  phase,  fitting 
with  the  whole  plan.  But  the  humor  was 
typically  sardonic.  He  changed  its  name,  too, 
from  minuet  to  scherzo.  But  more  significant 
is  the  change  in  the  treatment  of  the  theme. 
The  era  of  childlike  simplicity  had  passed.  A 
more  intellectual  and  more  virile  age  had  ar- 
rived, in  which  the  leading  melody  in  itself  is 
not  so  important  as  its.  use  literally  and  strictly 
as  a  theme ;  an  age  of  musical  thinking  as 
against  dreaming ;  of  cerebration  as  against 
mere  inspiration ;  of  a  logical  sequence  of 
thought  rather  than  a  blunt  alternative ;  of  a 
tendency  which  has  resulted  in  a  school  where 
the  theme  is  no  more  an  integral  part  of  a 
work  than  is  the  title  of  a  story. 

There  is  no  more  convincing  evidence  of 
the  peculiar  power  of  music,  which  we  have  been 
trying  to  define,  than  in  the  comparison  of  such 
works  as  the  seventh  and  the  fifth  symphonies ; 
of  this  graphic  portrayal,  not  of  pictures,  not  of 
stories,  not  of  doctrines,  but  of  feelings.  And 
while  saying  the  word  we  are  aware  of  its  utter 
weakness ;  for  feeling  may  mean  the  emptiest, 
the  most  frivolous,  the  most  useless  thing,  as, 
153 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

indeed,  it  may  be  the  weightiest,  the  most  pre- 
cious, the  most  powerful.  For  when  traced 
thoroughly,  feeling  such  as  prompts  great  art- 
works is  the  spring  of  all  else  in  life  woth  re- 
cording. It  is  the  original  fount  of  all  heroic 
action,  of  statesmanship,  of  ethics,  of  poetry,  of 
humanity  ;  indeed,  these  are  but  the  cold  expres- 
sion of  that  which  is  the  living,  sentient  fire.  It 
would  not  be  difficult  for  a  historian  to  find  in 
the  revolution  of  France,  in  the  Constitution  of 
America,  the  crystallized  result  of  the  passion 
which  began  to  rouse  men  in  unconscious  be- 
ginnings from  the  first  years  of  Humanism  in 
Italy.  And,  useful  as  these  organized  institu- 
tions must  be,  the  most  precious  forms  of 
expression  will  be  those  which  show  most  of 
the  unconscious  fire  and  vehemence  of  the 
original  impelling  feeling.  In  proportion  as 
they  take  on  practical  shapes,  they  will  lose 
their  natural  vigor.  Thus  it  is  that  a  me- 
dium like  music,  which,  without  pretence  of 
articulate  definition  of  the  prose  language  of 
human  makeshift,  of  so-called  practical  adjust- 
ment to  the  externals  of  changing  conditions, 
still  rears  the  highest  structure  of  Art,  on  figures 
of  enthralling  beauty,  will  be  the  most  perfect 
'54 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

human  utterance  of  our  feelings,  those  all- 
powerful,  noblest  stirrings  in  man's  nature. 
There  is  no  corollary  here  of  depreciation  of 
logic,  of  significant  language.  There  must  be 
divers  modes  of  utterance,  varying  in  nobility, 
suited  to  differing  natures  and  differing  con- 
ditions of  creation  and  of  reception.  In  the 
various  utterance  of  emotion,  of  whatever  shade 
of  Art  or  of  differentiated  meaning,  constituting 
human  intercourse,  lies  the  seed  or  stimulus 
for  ever  new  and  nobler  feelings,  which  in  turn 
need  newer  utterance,  and  lead  in  their  ex- 
pression to  improvement  and  ennoblement  of 
outward  conditions  of  human  life. 

Not  only  in  their  separate  song,  but  in  their 
contrast,  are  seen  the  varying  qualities  of  those 
two  great  symphonies,  and  thereby  of  the  ver- 
satile power  of  the  language  of  music  that  Men- 
delssohn meant  when  he  said  that  music  was 
much  more  definite  than  prose,  the  very  quality 
which  laymen — those  who  live  in  externals — 
are  fully  persuaded  is  absolutely  non-existent. 

The  Seventh  is  a  mighty  paean  of  joy,  in 
utterance  of  subjective  feeling.  The  Fifth  is 
burdened  with  the  stern  awfulness  of  the  ex- 
ternal power,  with  which  the  strongest  can  but 
155 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

struggle.  Most  of  us  run,  as  from  the  rain,  or 
hide,  as  from  the  lightning,  and  gratefully  bask 
in  intermittent  sunshine.  The  solitary  Pro- 
metheus can  at  highest  express  the  sense  of 

struggle,  or But  let  the  symphony  be  its 

own  evangel. 

At  the  very  beginning,  the  ominous  motto 
strong,  but  in  stern,  hollow  octaves : 

Allegro  con  brio. 
Strings  doubled  in  two  octaves  below. 


then   lightly  dancing  in  the  strings,  with  the 
rhythm  which  it  first  lacked,  it  rises,  a  melody 
STRINGS  AND  FAGOTS. 


in    its  responsive   singing,  ending  in   massive 
chords  and  in  a  pause,  that  adds  to  the  solem- 
nity of  legendary  utterance.     The  first  pages 
156 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


are  full  of  stern,  sombre  melody,  yet  without 
lack  of  resistless  motion.  Strange  this  con- 
stant, vital  impulse,  without  joyousness.  And 
striking  here,  the  contrast  in  sentient  meaning 
of  the  Fifth  and  the  Seventh  Symphonies,  the 
merciless  drive  of  objective,  external  destiny  as 
against  internal,  subjective  joy. 

After  a  more  decided,  rational  sounding  of 
the  motto  by  the  horns,  follows  the  quiet, 
pious  second  melody  in  the  violins,  in  soothing 
major,  unmistakable  in  its  sense  of  beseeching, 
of  refuge  from  the  first, — cherishing  peace  and 
solace.  But  it  cannot  resist  anxiety  stealing  in 

STRINGS. 
#  dolce.  •""" 


I       I 


ff  HORNS 


^ 

—  I— 

-^  

3PE 

S3 

<s  ^—  — 

~JV 
^^  

-&- 

•^. 

^ 

r- 

BF 

•T  — 

^ 
-"1 

— 



iz=i= 

0    0    0 

=t=^ 

and  increasing,  as  the  four  notes  are  approach- 
ing in  the  background  of  the  basses,  on  to  a 
climax,  where  the  repeated  statement  ends 
with  a  determined  ringing  of  the  motto.  Nc 
greater  contrast  can  be  imagined  than  of  the 
157 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

two  melodies.  It  is  like  the  dialogue  of  differ- 
ent persons ;  of  stern  necessity  and  pleading 
spirit,  with  a  quality  of  pious  trust. 

Here  is  the   phase  of  discussion,  with  au- 
sterest  warning,  and  then  on  with  the  rhyth- 
mical melody  and  the  same  theme,  first  gentle 
STRINGS,  CLARIONET,  AND  HORNS. 


ff  in  doubled  octaves. 

and  light,  soon  fitful  and  feverish,  into  furious 
hammering.  The  more  rational  phase  appears, 
which  promises  to  bring  in  the  plaint  of  second 
melody ;  but  it  is  lost  in  the  wild  rush  of  the 
fateful  sounds,  and  so,  most  rare  and  most  sig- 
nificant, there  is  no  sign  of  the  second  melody 
in  the  whole  period  of  discussion.  Instead, 
there  is  a  responsive  succession  of  solemn 
chords,  tapering  off  with  monotonous  repeti- 

WOODWIND  AND  BRASS. 

I         STRINGS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

tion,  like  the  stillness  of  Egyptian  temple,  into 
timid  expectancy  before  the  renewed  shocks  of 
the  terrible  hammers,  ringing  their  incessant, 
fateful  thud,  without  peace  and  solace,  in  the 
original  motto,  followed  by  the  original  suc- 
cession of  melodies,  where  the  second  sounds 
more  helpless  and  pitiful  than  ever.  In  the 
coda  the  main  theme  still  predominates,  with 
a  brief  fugue,  suggestive  of  priest  and  church, 
but  above  all  filled  with  the  gloom  of  ruthless 
Doom.  There  is  no  mercy  as  yet. 

Andante  con  moto.  It  might  well  have  been 
called  Andante  Religioso.  There  is  an  entire 
change  with  the  first  note ;  in  the  first  impres- 
sion, rest  from  turbulence  and  anxiety ;  but 
soon  we  cannot  be  quite  sure  whether  it  is 
really  rest  or  still  a  seeking  for  rest ;  like  the 
distinction  of  Lessing's  "  Truth  and  Search  for 
Truth,"  of  which  he  preferred  the  latter.  There 
seems  to  be  a  distinct  feeling  of  prayer  about 
the  Andante.  Perhaps  the  best  word  would 
be  Faith, — a  trustful  reliance,  which  varies  in 
strength  as  the  attacks  from  without  vary  in 
intensity,  which  are  clear  in  the  dim  reminders 
of  the  haunting  motive. 

But  the  predominant  feeling  is  contained  in 
159 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  leading  melody,    first   announced    in    the 
violas  and  in  the  celli.     It  is  that  kind  of  mel- 


Andante  con  moto. 
VIOLAS  AND  CELLOS. 


f)  doice. 
BASSES,  pizz. 


ody  where  Beethoven  strikes  his  deepest  note ; 
the  tone  of  profoundest  sympathy,  which  bound 
men  to  him  most. 

It  is  not  without  interest  that  Beethoven  is 
known  to  have  toiled  on  this  theme,  much  as  a 
sculptor  chisels  his  vision  out  of  the  marble. 
It  shows  that  there  is  no  necessary  connection 
between  the  beauty  of  a  melody  and  the  ease 
with  which  it  was  first  uttered,  which  is  often 
called  spontaneity.  On  the  contrary,  there  is 
reason  to  think  that  the  musical  thoughts  of 
highest  value  were  not  without  a  certain  cor- 
responding labor  in  their  final  perfection.  The 

ibo 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


manner  of  writing  is  thus  often  of  high  interest 
in  gauging,  by  comparison,  the  special  quality 
of  each  master.  Thus,  for  example,  this  is  a 
melody  which  Schubert  could  not  write.  And 
we  remember  how  Schubert  wrote  with  absp- 
lute  freedom  from  toil,  as  if  delivering  himself 
of  a  pressing  burden.  High  and  rare  as  was 
Schubert's  fancy,  he  had  not  that  vein  of  deep 
personal  human  sympathy  which  marks  Beetho- 
ven not  only  as  of  the  greatest  among  human 
poets,  but  of  the  greatest  among  the  men  of  all 
time.  There  is  a  tendency  to  value  too  highly 
the  quality  of  ease  of  utterance.  It  would  be 
better  to  err  on  the  other  side. 

This  melody  is  the  main  tissue  of  the  whole 
movement.  It  is  varied  only  by  a  secondary 
one,  which  is  contrasted  neither  in  key  nor  in 
theme,  serving,  in  its  simplicity,  for  quick 


CLARIONETS. 


With  obtigato  of  Violas. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

modulation  into  triumphant  bursts,  or  preceded 
often  by  timid  drooping  before  a  suggestion 
of  the  terrible  motto  : 

VIOLINS  WITH  SUSTAINING  CLARIONETS. 
I 


First  it  rushes  into  a  bold  cadence  in  a 
new  tonal  atmosphere ;  but,  quickly  relaps- 
ing, wanders,  still  pursued  by  the  motto,  an 
anxious  suppliant,  into  the  refuge  of  the  first 
melody.  The  predominance  of  the  chief  mel- 
ody is  veiled  by  new  figures  of  rhythm  and 
of  setting,  and  by  intervening  touches  of  elo- 
quent pleading  or  of  austere  solemnity.  At 
the  last  verse  there  is  a  decided  joyfulness  in 
the  prayer,  —  a  vision  of  coming  victory, 
where  woodwind  and  higher  strings  unite  in 
loudest  acclaim  on  the  melody,  the  horns 
sound  the  harmony,  the  drums  the  rhythm, 
and  the  lower  strings  strum  in  rapid  accompani- 
ment. The  end  is  in  a  spirit  of  reassurance. 

Probably  nothing  in  all   musical  literature 
offers  such  a  subtle  and  irresistible  temptation 
162 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

to  find  a  hidden  content,  as  this  third  move- 
ment, where  the  name  Scherzo  seems  to  have 
been  omitted  only  because  it  was  not  needed ; 
although  the  humor  is  of  a  kind  that,  in  its 
sombre  profundity,  is  as  peculiarly  Beethoven's 
as  is  the  pathetic  or  sympathetic  quality  of  the 
Andante.  The  temptation  comes,  I  suppose, 
from  the  curious  atmosphere  which  one  feels 
immediately  on  entrance,  like  that  of  a  magi- 
cian, when  the  lights  are  lowered  and  terrible 
things  are  going  to  happen.*  There  is  a  bril- 
liant though  dark-hued  dramatic  color  about  it 
all,  as  in  some  ideal  Freisckuetz,  without  inter- 
fering words. 

At  the  risk  of  seeming  rhapsodical  to  some, 
pedantic  to  others,  I  must  recur  to  some  well- 
worn  philosophical  terms,  for  lack  of  better 
ones.  I  can  find  nothing  more  expressive  than 
subjective  and  objective  for  a  certain  quality 
or  relation  of  themes.  I  cannot  escape  them  ; 
for,  more  than  suggestive  or  symbolic,  they 


*  It  may  be  interesting  for  the  reader  to  compare  the 
impression  Berlioz  gives  of  this  Scherzo  somewhere  in 
his  writings.  The  author  has  purposely  refrained  from 
reading  it  anew,  in  order  to  present  an  unbiassed  impres- 
sion of  his  own. 

163 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

represent  accurately  the  truth  of  the  composer's 
intent.  Thus,  nothing  can  be  clearer  than  this 
relative  significance  of  question  and  answer  in 
the  first  theme,  where  the  former  rises  from 
the  sombre  depths  of  the  basses,  like  a  sinister 

Allegro. 
VIOLINS  WITH  ADDED  WOODWIND. 


(ffi/b    X 

—  -  — 

=z=zrr 

z== 

JF 

- 

•^  --.?- 

^ 

/?/3  BASSES. 


poco  ritard. 


message,  while  the  answer,  in  higher  harmony, 
is  as  unmistakably,  as  against  the  outer  danger, 
the  inner  deprecation.  Whatever  any  one  may 
read  of  story  or  meaning,  according  to  his 
sensible  or  inflammable  state,  no  one  who  can 
164 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

feel  music  at  all,  can  deny  this  sharp  relation 
of  a  foreign  omen  and  a  personal  plaint.  It  is 
good  to  have  some  bed-rock  truth. 

Now,  after  the  repeated  phrase  and  pause, 
what  shall  we  say  to  this  entering  figure  ?  How 
shall  we  take  it  ?  For,  as  for  simply  accepting 
a  tripping  theme  in  three-quarter  time,  and  no 
more, — that  is,  once  lor  all,  out  of  the  question. 
This  is  not  that  kind  of  music.  For  those  who 
can  or  will  feel  nothing  more,  we  can  express 
mere  pity.  The  horns  sound,  in  curious 
three-quarter  dance  time,  a  kind  of  iambic 


HORNS. 


165 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

waltz,  while  strings  are  thrumming  the  har- 
mony, a  theme  of  which  all  but  the  end  is 
nothing  but  groups  of  successive  G'J,  with  pe- 
riodical halts,  all  with  utmost  vehemence,  im- 
mediately answered  and  extended  by  the  whole 
orchestra,  with  martial  vigor.  None  can  fail 
to  see  the  hidden  relation  with  the  original 
motto  of  the  symphony ;  only  it  has  the  guise 


of  a  newer  rhythm ;  for  it  dances  along  with 
infectious,  resistless  swing,  instead  of  the  dull 
thud,  with  awing  pause. 

But  how  shall  we  take  it,  even  so  ?  Some- 
times there  is  almost  a  touch  of  sardonic  pro- 
fanity, almost  of  blasphemy,  of  unholy  jesting 
with  unspeakable  things.  Critics  have  been 
sure  of  the  ring  of  defiance  here. 

But  we  must  remember  several  things. 
Some  of  them  we  are  always  forgetting.  For 
one,  it  is  the  paradox  of  musical  literature  that 
the  composer  is  less  conscious  of  his  intent  than 
is  the  intelligent  hearer.  And  the  reason  is  not 
far.  The  poet's  mind  is  too  intensely  absorbed 

1 66 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

with  his  creation  to  have  an  undercurrent 
thought  for  the  quality  of  his  mood.  That 
will  take  care  of  itself,  will  express  itself  in  the 
art,  the  better  for  being  unwatched.  But  for 
the  listener  it  is  otherwise ;  he  must  by  all  means 
get  as  near  as  he  can  to  the  mood  of  the  master. 

And  then  we  must  not  expect  to  see  this 
sentient  meaning  (as  it  might  be  called)  con- 
stant and  interlinear,  word  for  note.  There 
must  be  often  great  uncertainty.  And  yet, 
within  large  limits,  there  may  be  the  most  ab- 
solute certainty.  Thus  there  may  be  an  in- 
definable border-land  between  the  subjective 
and  objective  attitudes,  while  at  times  the  two 
are  clearly  distinguished. 

It  is  sometimes  difficult  to  tell  whether  a 
writer  or  a  speaker  is  in  earnest  or  in  jest.  It 
is  not  strange  if  we  cannot  be  absolutely  cer- 
tain of  the  intent  of  a  composer,  especially  if 
he  himself  could  not  tell  us.  If  Beethoven 
had  written  " Scherzo"  there  might  be  enough 
ground  for  the  ring  of  defiant  humor  which 
many  critics  hear.*  But,  altogether,  to  us 

*  Literal   questions    and  questioners    for    each    phrase 

I          must   be  shunned  with   the  same   horror   as   the   terrible 
people  who  ply  you  for  categorical  answers  of  yes  or  nc. 
167 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


the  hue  of  seriousness  prevails,  what  with  the 
gloom  of  the  minor,  the  vehemence  of  the 
chords,  notwithstanding  the  constant  tripping 
movement.  Still  suggesting  the  former  correl- 
atives, it  is  the  old  burden  of  external  omen. 
The  light  rhythm,  which  for  some  means  grim 
defiance,  seems  rather  merely  a  new  phase  for 
the  former  threatening  evil.  But  in  the  middle 
episode,  commonly  called  the  Trio,  there  can 
be  no  such  doubt. 

As  the  lowest  strings  start  alone  in  a  rum- 
bling dance  movement,  here   is  the  spirit  of 

CELLOS  AND  BASSES  (in  octaves). 


^ 


S=* 


purest,  roughest  humor,  boisterous, — not  horse- 
play, much  too  ponderous.  One  thinks  of  the 
elephant  dance  in  the  jungle  book.  In  the 
second  part  the  humor  is  still  clearer  in  the 
successive  broken  attempts  of  the  basses  before 


Basses  alone. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


they  once  more  find  their  feet  and  rumble 
away  in  the  dance.  But  the  humor  has  the 
profound,  eternal  quality,  fitting  with  highest 
art,  first  ending  in  a  great  bacchanak.  The 
second  time  it  dwindles  away,  until  we  are 
suddenly  back  in  the  sinister,  cavernous  gloom 
of  the  first  melody ;  again,  in  the  puzzling 
beat  of  tripping  motto,  whether  human  or 
superhuman,  descending  into  still  lower  depths 
of  sombrest  gloom,  with  demoniacal  perver- 
sion of  the  melody,  when  suddenly  a  turn  of 
the  major  lets  in  a  clear  ray  of  hope,  and  'then 
comes  the  heroic  lift  from  the  abode  of  devils 
to  that  of  angels,  from  hell  to  heaven,  from 
sinister,  overwhelming  evil  to  moral  triumph, 
to  emancipation  of  the  spirit,  as  the  final 
Allegro,  awaiting  no  pause,  throwing  off  the 
shackles  of  the  tripping  pace,  bursts  in  exult- 

Allfgro. 

FULL  ORCHESTRA. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

ant  marching  chords  in  brightest  major.  It 
is  all  clear  as  the  spelled  word, — nay,  clearer ; 
a  striking  example,  again,  of  Mendelssohn's 
mot  about  music  and  prose.  Your  poly- 
syllable from  the  Latin,  with  devious  deri- 
vation, has  a  cold  convention  of  meaning: 
the  music  here  is  the  meaning  itself,  is  the 
living  and  beautiful  embodiment  of  this  very 
spirit  of  achieved  freedom  from  outward  con- 
ditions.* 

Curiously,  yet  naturally,  the  feeling  does  not 
break  at  first  into  a  pronounced  melody,  as  if 
the  joy  were  too  great  to  find,  for  a  while,  a 
clear  utterance.  So  there  are  really  two  prin- 
cipal melodies,  of  which,  when  the  first  has  ex- 
hausted its  boisterous  exuberance,  the  second 
sings  a  clearer  and  quieter  chant,  while  the 
noisy  basses  are  ever  interrupting  with  turbu- 
lent coursing  up  and  down.  So  plain  is  the 
chant,  that  you  can  almost  hear  the  voices,  as 
of  some  great,  comprehensive  choral  hymn : 


*  Again,   it   is    suggested    that    Berlioz's  comment   be 
read  of  the  whole  symphony.     There  is  also  one  by  Sir 
George  Grove  in  a  book  on  Beethoven's  Nine  Sympho- 
nies.    There  must  be  other  descriptions. 
170 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

OBOE,  CLARIONET,  AND  HORNS. 


J        PS      i    J 


especially  in  the  farther  extending  of  the 
melody,  still  in  clear  notes  of  song.  At  last 
he  has  found  articulate  praise.  And  so  he 
glides  into  a  serener  melody  in  a  milder  at- 

STRINGS.  ^^^, 


— *- 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


mosphere  (the  official  second  melody  in  dom- 
inant key),  with  less  defiant,  more  feminine 
ring,  more  of  pure,  joyous  abandon,  joined  in 
refrain  of  the  whole  orchestra,  growing  quite 
conversational.  Then,  as  if  something  must 
still  be  said,  a  little  postscript  melody,  in  wood- 


STRINGS. 


WOODWIND. 


f  f 


172 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

wind  and  strings,  likewise  sanctioned  by  full 
acclaim  of  all.  All  of  which  •  is  repeated,  as 
integral  text  and  tissue  of  the  whole,  not  as 
mere  incidental  thoughts.  The  latter  of  the 
secondary  melodies  is  more  serious  than  the 
former ;  but  there  is  no  uncertainty  or  droop- 
ing. In  fact,  the  note  of  confident  joy  is  main- 
tained continuously  in  the  discussion  (all,  of  the 
first  of  the  secondary  themes),  varying  in  pro- 
fundity, in  sparkling  humor,  ending  in  renewed 
burst  of  exultant  triumph,  where  articulate 
tune  is  again  lost  in  the  vague  intensity, — when 
suddenly,  without  a  warning,  the  mysterious 
tripping  of  the  furious  movement  re-enters 
with  its  early  stealth,  and  leads,  as  before,  to 
the  burst  of  the  final  Allegro.  It  is,  I  suppose, 
a  sort  of  reminiscence  of  the  early  terror,  in 
order  to  make  more  sure  of  the  reality  of  the 
victory.  Again,  the  triumphant  song  sounds, 
first  vague,  then  defined ;  as  the  third  melody 
appears  in  the  tonic  key,  instead  of  the  comple- 
mentary, we  have  a  queer  feeling  of  nearing 
home ;  still  more  with  the  fourth  in  the  same 
familiar  region.  But  we  must  return  once 
more  to  the  happy  strain  of  the  episode. 
Then  a  bright,  hilarious  peal  of  the  second 
173 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

theme,  with  new  rhythmic  charm.  From  here 
on  the  movement  is  ever  faster  and  faster ; 
not  feverish ;  mere  festal  assurance  of  highest 
joy ;  until  the  last  theme  is  rehearsed  with 
doubled  speed.  Still  faster,  into  a  final  re- 

Presto.  STRINGS. 


fP 

affirmance  of  the  original  theme  of  assured 
victory,  extended  into  a  complete  close ;  but 
we  cannot  stop.  We  rush  on,  until,  after 
endless  vague  reiterations,  the  end  at  last  may 
merely  come,  because  it  must. 

I  have  said  that  Beethoven  is  reported  to 
have  given  casually  an  interpretation  of  his 
motto,  "So  klapft  das  Schicksal  an  die  Pforte" 
("Thus  Fate  knocks  at  the  door").  I  al- 
most wish  he  had  said  nothing;  that  there 
might  be  a  perfect  test  and  example  of  the 
power  of  music  to  define  sentient  truth,  truth 
of  feeling.  Starting  with  Beethoven's  words, 
it  is  quite  possible  to  build  up  a  complete  pic- 
ture of  the  strife  of  spirit  with  fate.  But  as 
soon  as  the  mind  occupies  itself  with  the  de- 

'74 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

tails  of  an  imaginative  picture,  the  musical  at- 
tention flags.  It  cannot  be  literally  translated. 
The  purpose  of  the  master  is  not  a  picture  for 
entertainment ;  it  is  the  communication  of  a 
sentiment  such  as  that  under  which  great  deeds 
are  done  and  genuine  greatness  is  achieved, 
which  does  not  depend  for  its  force  upon 
its  minute  definability.  The  more  closely  we 
follow  the  music,  the  less  we  can  stray  from 
this  true  meaning,  this  content  of  sentiment. 

Remarkable  as  is  the  contrast  of  the  Fifth 
with  the  Seventh  Symphony,  its  difference 
from  the  Third  is  even  more  striking.  Rebel- 
lion against  existing  conventional  tyranny  and 
oppression  is  not  rare  in  Beethoven,  whether  in 
words  or  in  notes.  But  there  is  something  far 
more,  far  deeper,  in  the  Fifth  Symphony. 
Whatever  Beethoven  may  or  may  not  have 
said,  there  is  no  resisting  the  convincing  im- 
pression of  a  sense  of  dull,  superhuman,  over- 
powering external  evil, — of  hopeless  supplica- 
tion, of  prayerful  faith,  of  assured  triumph. 
Whether  we  have  labels  or  not,  we  feel  that 
the  burden  is  that  greatest  of  man's  problems, 
as  in  the  tragedies  of  the  Greeks,  or  in  the  re- 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

ligion  of  Jew  and  Christian.  And  the  solu- 
tion is  no  less  convincing,  nay,  far  more  so,  than 
if  set  forth  in  Kantian  logic.  It  is  as  clear  as 
words  could  make  it  a  triumph,  moral,  not 
physical,  and  so  much  the  more  real.  Fate 
has  no  power  over  man  himself,  the  inner 
man.  It  cannot  control  character.  The  book 
of  Job  is  not  more  specific  in  its  content. 
But  beyond  all  is  the  overwhelming  power  of 
music,  which  makes  us  feel  it,  not  as  a  mere 
cold  symbol,  a  statement,  but  as  truth  itself. 


176 


VII 

SCHUBERT 

SCHUBERT  is  at  once  the  most  understandable 
and  the  most  mysterious  of  tone-poets.  It  is 
not  eccentric  to  begin  thus  with  a  paradox,  for 
he  himself  was  a  living  paradox,  and  the  puzzle 
has  never  been  solved.  His  music  always 
speaks  direct  to  the  feelings.  There  is  not  the 
psychological  abstruseness  of  Bach  and  Beetho- 
ven, although  there  is  much  suggestion  of  the 
mystic  charm  of  deep  searching  for  truth. 
Schubert  is,  without  any  doubt,  far  the  most 
"popular"  of  the  great  masters,  and  in  this 
position,  it  seems,  he  will  probably  never  be 
displaced.  We  do  not  knit  our  brows  in  list? 
ening  to  him ;  we  do  not  wonder  at  his  mean- 
ing. We  sit  content  in  quiet  ecstasy,  like 
children  listening  to  entrancing  fairy  stories. 

But  when  we  consider  the  poet  himself,  the 
machinery  of  the  creation,  so  to  speak,  there 
seems  to  be  no  clue  whatever.  With  all  other 
composers  it  is  possible  analytically  to  discover 

12  177 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

so-called  causes,  inheritances,  traditions,  influ- 
ences, from  far  and  near,  personal  and  national, 
broad  and  narrow.  With  Schubert  we  stand 
absolutely  baffled.  Since  the  earliest  years  of 
his  career  he  has  been  the  great  mystery.  To 
his  daily  companions,  with  all  the  free  abandon 
of  his  good-fellowship,  he  was  still  "  der  Ein- 
zige,"  the  only  one,  the  unexplained.  The 
mystery  was  increased  by  the  lack  of  correspond- 
ence between  his  person  and  his  genius.  Schu- 
bert's presence  is  reported  as  insignificant.  He 
had  none  of  the  heroic  qualities  of  Beethoven, 
the  delight  in  making  an  awful  impression. 
But  in  any  man  the  quality  of  pouring  forth 
exquisite  melody  at  such  an  extraordinary  rate 
would  be  marvellous.  It  seems  just  like  some 
Tarnhelm,  or  magic  gift  in  legend.  Schubert 
had,  it  would  seem,  the  most  remarkable  nat- 
ural endowment  for  musical  creation  of  all. 
The  only  one  to  suggest  close  comparison  here 
is  Mozart.  Alike  they  had  this  untiring,  almost 
voracious  impulse  to  write,  Schubert  in  greater 
measure,  however.  He  would  write  four  and 
five  songs  in  a  day.  He  would  finish  one  and 
straightway  begin  another,  often  never  seeing 
them  again,  once  failing  to  recognize  one  a  few 
178 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

weeks  old.  The  thinnest  poetry  was  enough 
to  start  this  golden  flow  of  melody.  Schubert 
seems  almost  a  passive  instrument,  obedient  to 
the  voice  of  some  restless  external  genius. 
He  seemed  to  do  hardly  more  than  hold  the 
pen.  He  utterly  lacked  the  element  of  toil  of 
a  Beethoven,  a  Schumann,  or  a  Brahms.  And 
this  very  difference,  as  we  have  suggested,  and 
shall  repeat  later,  is  not  at  all  an  unmixed 
advantage.  Absolutely  there  seemed  no  limit 
to  the  flow  of  his  thought.  As  Schumann 
said,  he  could  have  set  a  placard  to  music. 
And,  indeed,  it  is  curious  that  while  in  his  six 
hundred  and  thirty-four  songs  he  duly  recog- 
nized the  greatest  poets,  yet  he  set  one  after 
another  of  utterly  worthless  libretti  for  opera, 
actually  burying  reams  of  great  music  in  the 
rubbish  of  bad  verse. 

The  difference  from  Mozart  is  for  good  and 
ill.  Schubert  rarely  reached  the  Olympian 
mastery  of  Mozart,  the  fruit  of  early  appren- 
ticeship. So  he  lacked  the  control,  the  sense 
of  completeness.  But  Mozart  had  not  that 
magic  virtue  of  Schubert,  of  lighting  on  some 
touch  of  undreamt  beauty  which  crowns  the 

mystery. 

179 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

After  all,  it  is  not  the  mere  velocity  of  crea- 
tion that  strikes  us  most.  Much  lesser  men 
have  been  equally  industrious.*  It  is  the  utterly 
new  beauty  that  Schubert  surprises  us  with  in 
songs,  piano,  and  chamber  works,  and  in  sym- 
phonies.f  While  Beethoven  slowly  chiselled 
out  his  utterance,  Schubert  found  his  without 
searching.  And  it  is  this  that  seems  to  make 
Schubert's  art  less  part  of  himself,  less  subjec- 
tive, more  a  wonderful  gift,  separate  from  his 
own  thought. 

But  it  is  curious  and  significant  how  Bee- 
thoven has  that  other  quality  which  Schubert 
lacks.  Schubert  has  been  called  feminine 
in  contrast  with  Beethoven.  This  does  not 
seem  happy.  There  is  no  loss  of  vigor,  no 
absence  of  virility  and  fire.  But  the  broad 
human  sympathy  that  Beethoven  breathes  in 

*  Schubert  might  have  written  as  much  on  a  lower 
plane,  and  have  been  deservedly  forgotten.  Part  of  his 
work  is  on  such  a  plane. 

f  Of  course,  once  a  high  point  attained,  a  poet  is 
seldom  content  with  a  lower  level.  But  the  wonder  with 
Schubert  is  how  he  could  rest  so  long  on  a  mediocre  level. 
Apparently  he  trusted  quite  passively  to  the  arrival  of 
the  tr,ue  thought. 

1 80 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

his  Andantes  comes  only  from  the  hero  who  has 
struggled  and  conquered,  and  looks  on  in  sym- 
pathy. Schubert  lacks  this  almost  entirely; 
but  we  may  be  firmly  persuaded  that  if  he  had 
lived  longer  he  would  certainly  have  achieved 
it.  The  reason  we  shall  see  later  in  his  sym- 
phonies. But  in  the  youthful  career,  which 
was,  alas !  the  whole,  he  was  the  unconscious 
seer  rather  than  the  moral  prophet  and  teacher. 
In  so  far  as  Beethoven  marks  an  advance  from 
Mozart  to  a  stage  where  music  expresses  a 
higher  degree  of  profound  meaning,  Schubert 
relapses  into  a  state  of  purely  spontaneous  in- 
spiration. 

And  yet,  in  our  hopeless  paradox,  Schubert 
has  elsewhere  a  striking  resemblance  to  Bee- 
thoven. We  have  suggested  in  the  Seventh 
Symphony  the  subtle  kinship  between  the 
Allegretto  and  Schubert's  melody  in  the  song, 
"  Death  and  the  Maiden,"  on  which  he  dis- 
courses at  length  in  one  of  his  famous  quartets. 
To  this  same  kind  of  magic  melody  belongs 
the  Andante  of  Schubert's  great  C  Major  Sym- 
phony. It  is  of  the  vein,  too,  in  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  Beethoven  often  begins  his  sympho* 
nies,  especially  the  third  and  the  seventh,  the 

181 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

quality  so  difficult  to  express  in  English :  the 
sense  of  mystic  depth  and  meaning,  that  filled 
German  poetry  and  philosophy  early  in  the  cen- 
tury, which  must  be  true  of  all  times  and  of 
all  nations,  utterly  opposed  to  modern  English 
traditions  of  a  philosophy  built  on  geology.  It 
is  quite  apparent  in  the  beginning  of  Schubert's 
Unfinished  Symphony ;  indeed,  in  a  sense,  it 
permeates  the  whole.  It  expresses  not  so  much 
a  German  national  feeling  as  a  certain  national 
mission,  or  message  of  the  Germans  to  the 
world  through  their  philosophy,  poetry,  and 
music.  And  here  is  seen  again  the  resistless 
power  of  Music  in  such  things,  in  intensify- 
ing the  deep  poetry  of  Goethe,  of  Herder,  of 
Schiller ;  in  beautifying,  in  idealizing  their 
sentiment,  in  glorifying  their  profound  vision. 
Thus,  through  Schubert  (and  Beethoven)  we 
actually  understand  better  and  feel  much  more 
strongly  the  thought  of  Fichte  and  Schelling, 
of  German  Romantic  philosophy.  He  gives 
of  that  period  of  awakening  the  very  essence 
of  what  Novalis  is  searching  for. 

But  the  note  in  Schubert  is  not  quite  the 
same  as  in  Beethoven ;  it  is  more  delicate,  less 
sombre,   softer,    but   true    and    sound,    never 
182 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

morbid  or  weak.  As  we  have  said,  if  Bee- 
thoven is  prophet,  Schubert  is  seer.  He  has 
less  of  ethical  leaven.  But  his  genius  is  in- 
tensely poetic  ;  it  is  the  essence  of  lyric  in- 
spiration. Hence  his  greatness  in  song,  not 
merely  German ;  his  perfect  settings  of  the 
highest  lyric  flights  of  a  Goethe  and  a  Shake- 
speare. But  his  quality  was  less  adapted  to 
symphony,  wherefore  his  true  symphonies  are 
all  the  more  wonderful. 

Like  Weber  in  fresh  romanticism,  he  is  ut- 
terly unlike  him  in  needing  no  outward  objects 
or  stories  for  his  fancy.  Yet  he  had  an  en- 
tirely different  subjectivity  from  Beethoven's, 
purely  lyric  as  against  the  heroic  and  epic. 
Schubert  in  his  moments  mounted  higher  than 
any.  He  was  the  Shelley  and  Keats  com- 
bined of  music ;  but  they  were  usually  mere 
moments,  not  continuous  thought,  on  a  high 
plane,  save  in  these  two  wonderful  sympho- 
nies. 

We  cannot  put  Schubert  down  as  mere 
lyricist.  He  is  not  lacking  in  the  philosophic 
insight  of  Goethe  and  of  Beethoven.  But 
with  all  his  poetic  impulse  he  had  not  so 
powerful  a  grasp  of  poetic  analysis  as  Beetho- 
183 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

ven,  though  he  had  a  keener  lyric  intuition. 
This  is  seen  in  his  endless,  sometimes  fruit- 
less, strivings, — the  vacuous  stretches  in  the  C 
Major  Symphony  and  in  many  piano  works. 
It  seems  as  if  he  writes  waiting  for  an  in- 
spiration to  come  while  writing ;  while  Bee- 
thoven writes  directly  to  the  point  of  melody 
or  climax. 

Some  light  on  Schubert's  indefinable  per- 
sonal quality  comes  from  the  feeling  and 
poetry  of  historic  and  national  surroundings. 
It  is  an  age  which,  in  music,  philosophy,  and 
poetry  is  commonly  given  the  name  "  Roman- 
tic." This  seems  very  like  a  blind  guide ;  for 
if  there  is  anything  indeterminate,  it  is  the 
"  Romantic"  in  art.  Various  definitions  are 
given  which  do  not  even  suggest  the  same 
idea.  One  from  an  intense  Romanticist  of  that 
day — Novalis,  the  poet-philosopher — a  very 
mild  description,  is  the  art  of  surprising  in  a 
pleasing  manner.  If  we  think  of  men  who 
shared  the  spirit  (and  of  others  who  lacked  it), 
we  shall  stumble  upon  a  foothold.  A  pioneer 
in  this  field,  who  .was  then  thought  far  more 
important  than  Schubert,  was  Weber.  From 
him  we  have  a  clearer  idea  of  the  reaction.  But, 
184 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

first  of  all,  we  must  not  confine  Romanticism 
to  any  one  period.  There  is  nothing  fixed 
in  time  or  space  about  this  pair  of  correla- 
tives,— Classic  and  Romantic.  We  must  re- 
member that  Mozart  was  once  Romantic,  and 
Mendelssohn  is  generally  thought  Classic.  Yet 
the  term  has  so  striking  a  significance  at  the 
beginning  of  this  century,  the  contrast  between 
Schubert  and  Weber  and  their  predecessors  was 
so  great  that  the  former  will  probably  be  for 
all  time  typical  Romanticists. 

There  is  a  curiously  ponderous  sort  of  analysis 
by  Philipp  Spitta  of  the  Romantic  in  Opera,  in 
four  ingredient  elements, — the  imaginative,  the 
national,  the  comic,  and  the  realistic.  This  is, 
of  course,  too  definite  for  general  use.  It  will 
fit  but  one  period,  which,  to  be  sure,  we  are 
now  considering.  The  truth  is,  each  master  is 
dual  in  this  respect :  he  is  romantic  towards 
the  past  and  classic  for  the  future.  He  works 
for  change  in  traditions  and  for  permanency  for 
all  time ;  otherwise  he  is  merely  reactionary. 
The  same  thought,  the  same  feeling  cannot 
be  uttered  twice  in  succession  with  the  same 
freshness  and  spontaneous  beauty.  So,  with- 
out derogation  to  the  past,  a  new  poet  must 
1 8s 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

create  anew.*  As  against  the  permanent 
classic  poetry  of  the  earlier  masters  there  was 
room  and  need  for  Schubert's  fancy.  And 
while  all  are  classics  for  posterity,  yet  the 
striking  change  in  Schubert  from  the  masters, 
who  were  almost  of  his  generation,  makes  him 
peculiarly  and  perennially  Romantic. 

We  might  very  well  in  the  last  two  chap- 
ters have  called  Beethoven  Romantic,  in  re- 
action from  Mozart,  perhaps  with  as  great 
accuracy  as  any  other  master.  Indeed,  Bee- 
thoven is  often  termed  so.  We  saw  him  the 
exponent  of  that  remarkable  shock  given  to 
men's  minds  by  the  French  Revolution,  which 
affected  staid  statesmen  as  well  as  sensitive 
poets  in  verse  and  in  tone.  There  was  a  violent 
awakening  from  the  peaceful,  childlike,  playful 
writing  of  sonatas  for  the  salon.  Men  were  forced 
to  be  serious.  This  suggests  one  of  the  salient 
qualities  of  the  Romantic  which  Novalis  ig- 
nores and  Spitta  at  most  may  imply  in  his  ele- 
ment of  realism.  It  is  that  in  the  Romantic, 
external  beauty  of  form  and  outline  is  over- 

*  If  Schubert  had  in  any  measure  dethroned  Beethoven 
(not  to  impute   to  him  iconoclastic  motives),  he  would 
have  become  the  supreme  classic. 
186 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

shadowed  by  the  urgent  intensity  of  mere  emo- 
tional content.  This  might  be  called  a  rebel- 
lion of  realism  against  formalism,  but  with 
great  caution.  The  realism  is  of  feeling,  of 
inner  meaning,  and  this  formalism  implies  no 
slur  on  real  beauty  of  form,  which  is  an  indis- 
pensable symptom  and  test  of  true  feeling. 

After  all,  is  not  every  master's  youth  strik- 
ingly his  Romantic  age,  when  he  reacts  against 
the  formal  dominance  of  his  predecessor  ?  Later 
he  himself  matures  ;  his  form  corresponds  to 
his  new  meaning  ;  in  turn  he  becomes,  in  his 
very  pre-eminence,  blighting  to  younger  poets. 
In  Schubert's  earlier  works,  especially  for  piano, 
we  see  a  flight  from  the  tyranny  of  sonata- 
formality,1"  we  see  neglect  of  structural  regu- 
larity and  beauty  of  proportion  for  the  sake  of 
some  stray  nugget  of  golden  melody,  or  of 
lesser  figure  or  turn.  It  was  again  an  emphasis 
on  inner  content  as  against  outer  symmetry. 
Later,  Schubert  undoubtedly  approached  a  finer 
unconscious  proportion  between  feeling  and 
utterance.  But  he  neither  lived  nor  wrought 


*  Of  course,  this  was   unconscious   again,  for  he  wrote 
many  "  Sonatas." 

187 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

long  enough  to  become  in  his  turn  a  top-heavy 
master  of  musical  ceremony.  And  we  must 
not  forget — we  shall  be  reminded  of  it  later — 
his  final  absorption  and  mastery  of  the  sym- 
phony ;  most  significant,  whether  in  the  view 
of  Schubert  the  master,  or  of  the  Symphony, 
as  perennial  channel  of  pure  tonal  poetry. 

In  the  typical  Romantic  reaction  there  is 
necessarily  less  of  the  repose  which  conduces 
to  homogeneous,  finished  treatment,  with  a 
certain  conscious  stress  on  its  own  beauty.  In 
the  Romantic  there  is  the  new  emotion  or  idea 
which  burdens  the  mind,  drives  it  to  a  more 
definite  utterance  at  all  hazards,  at  the  expanse 
of  conventional  precept.  With  the  true  mas- 
ter this  leads  to  wrenching  and  bursting  the 
fetters  of  tradition  without  real  violat/on  of 
fundamental  artistic  principle,  without  actual 
formal  weakness.  Form  in  the  abstract  must 
never  be  confused  with  concrete  conventional 
forms.  But  with  less  than  complete  mastery, 
its  special  strength  which  Romantic  inspira- 
tion imports  of  melodic  fulness  or  power  of 
intimate  definite  utterance,  almost  inevitably 
involves  some  weakness  in  outline,  in  develop- 
ment, in  discussion.  We  have  here,  uninten- 
1*8 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

tionally,  come  upon  a  striking  shortcoming 
of  Schubert.  But  this  weakness  which  shines 
through  six  or  seven  insignificant  symphonies, 
which  nearly  neutralizes  the  glorious  melody 
of  many  piano  works,  was  finally  conquered 
in  the  achievement  of  two  symphonies,  that 
may  fitly  and  fairly  rank  with  Beethoven's  nine. 

But  we  were  thinking,  in  the  Romantic  re- 
action of  highest  mastery,  of  Beethoven.  With 
him  it  was  a  cosmic  movement.  With  Schu- 
bert and  Weber  the  feeling  was  rather  a  na- 
tional one,  and  it  is  so  expressed  in  the  new 
quality  of  their  melody.  Beethoven's  melodic 
scope  was  larger ;  his  most  potent  means  lay  in 
profound  power  of  treatment  and  discussion. 

The  national  vein  of  Schubert  and  Weber 
expressed  a  state  of  things  which  is  now  his- 
toric. It  came  from  the  same  impulse  which 
stirred  the  first  beginnings  of  German  litera- 
ture in  a  Lessing,  a  Wieland,  a  Herder,  and  a 
Goethe,  culminating  in  the  united  burst  of 
nationalism  on  the  downfall  of  Napoleon. 
Indeed,  its  final  political  expression  is  but  an 
event  of  yesterday.  Music  suffered  under  a 
different  tyranny  from  the  French  influence  on 
German  literature.  There  it  was  the  Italian 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

domination  (not  unlike  the  German  glamour 
to-day  in  America),  and,  through  the  Italian, 
of  the  revived  legends  and  heroes  of  Greek  and 
Roman  mythology.  Mozart,  in  Don  Giovanni, 
at  last  left  the  tiresome  procession  of  shadowy 
Greeks,  who  had  filled  all  early  opera ;  as  did 
Beethoven  in  Fidelio.  But  neither  had  the 
courage  to  write  a  pure  German  name.  The 
strong  sense  for  reality  of  sentiment  and  for 
dramatic  truth  in  these  operas  does  not  consti- 
tute a  distinct  reaction ;  the  tendency  is  too 
gradual.  The  Romantic  rebellion  came  in 
Weber.  He  boldly  threw  over  the  Welsh 
suzerainty.  Everything  is  freshly  Teutonic, — 
language,  titles,  legends,  characters. 

But  language,  titles,  legends,  heroes  do  not 
concern  us  in  pure  music.  The  question  is  of 
melody.  No  one  can  deny  the  Italian  quality 
lingering  in  Mozart ;  the  achievement  in  Bee- 
thoven of  a  more  catholic  or  cosmic  strain; 
finally,  in  Schubert  and  Weber,  the  full  blos- 
soming of  German  lyric  song  in  music,  as  with 
Goethe  in  verse.  All  this  applies  most  directly 
to  Schubert's  Lieder.  His  realm,  where  he  was 
long  supreme,  is  the  German  folk-song, as  against 
the  Italian  Aria  of  earlier  opera.  It  seems  that 
190 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Schubert,  with  all  his  personal  genius,  came  at 
the  mathematical  point  of  time  to  voice  in 
song  the  unuttered  German  national  feeling. 

But  the  German  quality  of  Schubert  goes  far 
deeper.  And  here  we  cannot  escape  the  ques- 
tion how  far  the  symphony  is  dependent  upon 
the  folk-song.  I  can  see  no  other  answer  than 
an  immediate  relation, — one  that  tends  to  mark 
the  limits  of  original  creation  in  art.  In  this 
sense,  Goethe  did  not  create  his  lyrics,  nor  did 
Burns.  Neither  invented  the  form,  the  metre 
of  their  song.  They  simply  wrote  in  the 
manner  of  their  own  national  folk-song.  Thus 
each  new  lyric  is  but  a  variation  on  some  old 
fundamental  type. 

In  music  this  national  quality  is  equally  es- 
sential and  pervasive.  The  symphony,  as  a 
group  of  great  utterances  in  high  art,  can  be 
sifted  to  a  discussion  of  a  few  melodies  or 
themes.  All  else  is  in  a  sense  subsidiary. 
The  theme  is  the  substance,  the  text.  Thus 
the  bearing  of  folk-song  on  the  greatest  mas- 
terpieces is  clearly  all-important.  (The  mean- 
ing of  such  a  relation  for  Americans  is  signifi- 
cant; we  may  return  to  it  later.)  We  have 

treated  above,  as  we  describe  below  in  detail, 
191 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

how  Schubert  expressed  in  his  symphonies  a 
feeling  which  had  a  strong  relation  to  a  spirit 
in  German  poetry  and  philosophy. 

Far  the  most  important  trait  of  Schubert's 
career  is  what  seems  his  moral  evolution 
through  mastery  of  the  symphony.  And  here 
appears  a  wonderful,  an  entrancing,  and  a  pro- 
foundly important  mystery  in  the  relation  of 
art  and  ethics.  Schubert  was  gifted  with  the 
talent  which  made  sustained  utterance  in 
rounded,  perfect,  unconscious  outline  a  diffi- 
culty ;  so  he  was  morally  endowed  to  make 
most  difficult  a  certain  balance,  a  thorough- 
going completeness.  If  he  had  yielded  to  his 
weakness,  if  he  had  become  what  moderns  call 
a  degenerate,  he  would  have  followed  the  line 
of  least  resistance,  have  written  still  more  songs, 
have  perhaps  devised  some  new  shift  of  form, 
eminently  suited  to  his  capacities  and  defects. 
But  this  is  exactly  what  Schubert  did  not  do. 
He  struggled  through  seven  ineffective  sym- 
phonies, where  there  is  no  rounding  out  into 
unconscious  completeness,  where  the  melodic 
inspirations  are  not  justified.  But  he  did  not 
yield  in  the  double  fight, — of  artistic  and  moral 
self-realization.  And,  finally,  none  too  soon, 
192 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

he  achieved  the  double  victory.  In  March,  the 
C  Major  symphony  was  begun ;  in  November 
Schubert  died.  This,  his  tenth  symphony,  is 
in  every  way  typical,  symbolic,  directly  elo- 
quent of  this  greatest  of  heroic  struggles,  which 
ought  to  come  to  every  man,  whereby  the  ar- 
tistic victory  becomes  an  expression  of  the 
moral,  and  whereby  the  corresponding  art-work 
has  perhaps,  as  its  greatest  value,  this  stamp  of 
ethical  achievement.  I  should  even  say  that, 
where  this  is  not  attained  in  artist  or  poet,  the 
art  or  poetry  cannot  be  of  permanent  value. 
Lacking  this  moral  stamp,  it  cannot  have  last- 
ing beauty ;  or  rather  in  converse  statement  the 
principle  is  more  clearly  borne  out.  And  this 
is  the  most  striking  value  of  Schubert's  career. 
All  this,  too,  must  bring  with  it  a  correction 
of  the  prevailing  monstrous  theory  that  genius 
involves  abnormality. 

Symphony,  B  Minor.     ( Unfinished.} 

(Allegro  Moderate.      Andante  con  moto.) 

The    Unfinished    Symphony   is   equally  re- 
markable, whether  viewed  in  the  whole  litera- 
ture of  music,  or  merely  in  the  group  of  Schu- 
bert's works.     In  the  first  place,  it  is  not,  as 
13  J93 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

might  be  thought,  his  last  work ;  it  is  in  no 
way  to  be  likened  to  the  unfinished  romances 
of  great  novelists.  Yet,  while  written  six  years 
before  the  end  of  his  short  career,  it  seems, 
with  perhaps  one  exception,  absolutely  his 
highest  level,  which  he  did  not  distantly  ap- 
proach for  a  long  time.  Then  it  is  somehow 
strangely  free  from  characteristic  defects  which 
troubled  Schubert  before  and  afterwards.  Nay, 
it  seems  marked  by  the  very  qualities  essential 
to  the  symphony  which  he  most  lacked  else- 
where ;  so  that,  of  all  his  nine  symphonies,  the 
unfinished,  and  the  last,  in  C  Major \  are  the 
only  ones  generally  performed. 

The  work  begins  in  a  way  like  nothing  save 
some  touches  of  Beethoven  (in  the  third  and 
in  the  seventh  symphonies),  where  the  bass 
mysteriously  foreshadows  the  melody.  It  is, 
after  all,  the  bass  to  which  you  must  look  for 
the  symphonic  quality.  Schubert's  lyric  lean- 
ing is  betrayed  by  a  too  frequent  tendency  to 
run  into  accompanied  melody.  But  here  Schu- 
bert, with  all  the  contrast,  shows  his  strong 
affinity  for  Beethoven.  We  cannot  put  him 
off  as  a  mere  lyricist.  The  legend-like  melody 
in  the  bass  strings: 

194 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Allegro  moderate. 

PP         ^ i [  i  rj 

is  preparatory.  But  the  melody  is  too  subtle 
for  formal  statement.  First  comes  a  quivering 
in  the  strings  (with  rhythmic  bass),  where 
somewhere  an  indefinable  melody  is  hovering. 
But  presently,  like  a  royal  figure  after  his  noble 
precursors,  the  real  theme  sounds  high  and 
clear,  though  in  softest  tone,  in  the  woodwind : 


STRINGS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

while  the  herald-figures  lapse  into  attendants. 
Melodic  separation  seems,  somehow,  wrong. 
To  drop  theoretic  phraseology  for  once,  the 
whole  is  like  a  continuous  flow  of  melody 
where  each  phrase  seems  chief  until  it  pales 
before  its  successor. 

So,  after  some  overpowering  clashes,  which 
preserve  the  prevailing  tone  of  delicacy  and 
lightness  from  monotonous  sweetness,  there 
glides  in,  borne  by  the  cellos,  the  most  charm- 
ing melody  in  all  music  : 
VIOLAS. 


delicately  echoed  high  in  the  violins.  With 
all  its  perfect  melody,  and  the  softest  and  purest 
orchestration,  the  movement  is  full  of  romantic 
shocks  and  bursts,  as  if  the  essence  of  legendary 
poetry.  The  necessary  vigor  is  not  lacking, 
196 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

nor  the  true  relation  and  balance  of  dolce  and 
forte.  It  is  a  mistake  to  view  the  crashing 
chords  as  mere  interlude  between  the  verses ; 
they  are  quite  as  real  a  part  of  the  poem  as 
any  other.  But  with  all  the  beauty  of  the 
melodies  and  of  the  modulation  (which  was 
Schubert's  special  secret),  what  is  called  the 
development,  after  the  repeated  statement  of 
melodies,  is  somehow  perhaps  of  the  highest 
spontaneity,  although  just  here  we  might  ex- 
pect the  greatest  weakness. 

A  motive  from  the  first  phrase : 
VIOLINS. 


treated  in  canon,  rises  to  a  dramatic  climax  in 
which,  added  to  the  dynamic  effect,  is  an  over- 
powering surprise  of  modulation.  Again  and 
again  the  tempest  seems  about  to  subside  into 
the  enchantment  of  the  second  melody,  but 
197 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

each  time  it  rises  to  a  new  height.  Now  the 
whole  orchestra  sound  the  answering  phrase  in 
unison ;  then  with  the  motive  in  the  basses,  the 
strings  accompanying  in  tremolo  figure,  a  wild 
perversion  of  their  original  melody,  the  whole 
orchestra  thunders  and  storms  in  mad  tossing 
about  of  the  motive,  where  the  secret  of 
counterpoint  is  unconsciously  invoked  for  the 
most  dramatic  of  passages.  Suddenly  we  are 
in  the  delicate,  mysterious  atmosphere  of  the 
first  melody,  and  so  on  through  the  second, 
with  a  final  repetition  of  the  original  bass  fig- 
ure to  the  end.  The  whole  is  the  final  essence 
of  romance,  the  feeling  of  Arabian  tales,  with 
quick,  sharp  succession  of  happenings,  good 
and  ill,  with  no  room  for  prosaic  reflection. 

The  Andante  begins  more  quietly,  but  it  is  in 
the  same  vein.  At  the  outset  there  is  the  same 
melodic  bass : 

Andante  con  moto. 


Basses  an  octave  lower. 


presaging  the  melody  in  the  strings 

198 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


STRINGS  (with  melody  doubled  above). 


Indeed,  the  very  quality  of  the  tonal  change 
of  scene  is  characteristic  of  Schubert's  modu- 
lation. Throughout,  the  duet  between  the 
active  staccato  bass  figure  and  the  quiet  gliding 
of  the  violins  is  sustained.  Perhaps  it  is  its 
dainty  surprises  of  modulation  that  somewhat 
take  the  place  of  the  dynamics  in  the  Allegro. 
Yet  here  in  the  second  page  is  a  sudden  mar- 
tial sound  in  the  trebles,  with  a  noisy  lum- 
bering in  the  bass  like  the  tread  of  giants, 
suddenly  thinning  away  into  the  original 
pianissimo  melody.  The  whole  episode  of  the 
first  theme  departs  with  the  same  phrase  which 
introduced  it.  Equally  complete  is  that  of  the 
second.  Preceded  by  a  curiously  promising 
rhythm  in  the  strings,  the  clarionets  sing  a 
melody  so  simple  that  you  wonder  where  the 
charm  lies, 

'99 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Quoting  will  not  show  it ;  the  secret  must 
be  in  large  part  in  the  accompanying  rhythm 
and  in  the  exquisite  turn  of  modulation.  In- 
deed, it  is  not  a  strict  melody  at  all,  but 
melodic  speech  which  might  go  on  as  long  as 
the  urging  rhythm  will  hold  out.  In  its  later 
career  it  develops  even  more  beauty,  so  that 
the  beginning  seems  mere  introduction.  Sud- 
denly the  vision — at  its  loveliest — is  rudely 
broken  by  loud  crashes,  where  we  lose  all 
sense  of  connection  with  the  past  until  we 
recognize  a  noisy  minor  of  the  basses,  which 
is  a  gloomy  memory  of  the  second  melody ; 
the  storm  rages  furiously,  but  in  a  trice  ends 
with  the  enchanting  rhythm  which  again 
promises  the  second  melody  in  its  true  guise, 
this  time  exquisitely  given  in  canon  duet  by 
cellos  and  violins.  Again  there  is  here  one  of 
the  highest  passages  in  all  music ;  because  to 
all  his  genius  of  melody,  harmony,  modula- 
tion, and  rhythm,  Schubert  adds  the  uncon- 
scious mastery  of  counterpoint.  Quietly  the 
scene  glides  to  the  first  melody,  and  then,  as 
at  first,  through  the  various  phases,  gentle  and 
wild,  not  without  many  new  touches  with 
which  Schubert  never  fails  to  surprise. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

C  Major  Symphony. 

The  pervading  trait  of  this  greatest  of  Schu- 
bert's works  is  the  large  scale  of  its  design, 
and  with  this  a  certain  breadth  and  depth.  In- 
deed, not  only  does  it  seem  the  shallowest 
judgment  to  call  some  modern  work  the  tenth 
symphony,  so  clear  is  the  superiority  of  Schu- 
bert's last  to  all  its  successors,  I  am  even 
tempted  to  hold  that  in  a  still  higher  (and 
more  perilous)  ranking  of  masterpieces,  Schu- 
bert's C  Major  belongs  in  a  small  group  which 
would  not  contain  all  of  Beethoven's  sym- 
phonies. The  C  Major  is  certainly  far  superior 
to  Beethoven's  Pastoral,  not  to  go  further. 

So  complete  is  this  unity  in  Schubert's  sym- 
phony, a  unity  transparent  in  its  very  breadth 
and  depth  and  continuous  purpose,  that  the  first 
movement,  with  all  its  dimensions  and  supreme 
perfection  of  form,  seems  like  a  great  fanfare, 
prelude  to  the  rest. 

The  movement  itself  begins  with  a  prologue, 
Andante,  in  a  curious  prophetic  way  (like  the 
Impromptu  for  piano  in  C  Minor),  without 
charm  of  rhythm  or  wealth  of  harmony,  alone 
in  solemn  horns : 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Andante. 


_i ^-i . — i — \. 


HORNS. 


As  the  strain  is  taken  up  by  others,  and  the 
strings  sing  an  answer  in  many-voiced  hymn, 
it  is  like  an  invocation.  Soon  there  is  a  loud 
confident  chorus  in  the  original  strain.  Then 
a  dainty  answering  melody  from  the  oboe,  with 
strange  irruptions  on  the  gentle  song  by  the 


7'utti  (with  Drums). 


STRINGS. 


whole  orchestra,  ever  and  again   in  eccentric 
alternation, — a  kind  of  refusal  to  be  committed 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

to  either  humor.  The  echoes,  continuing 
through  gray  changes  of  tonal  color,  finally 
break  into  a  clear  melodious  close  in  the  origi- 
nal key ;  slowly  the  prophetic  atmosphere 
changes  to  one  of"  joyful  confidence.  The  first 
phrase  is  sung  by  the  woodwind,  with  new 
movement  in  accompanying  strings.  The 
whole  has  some  of  that  promise  of  coming 
rhythm  which  we  saw  in  the  prelude  of  the 
Seventh  Symphony,  and  a  similar  gradual 
gathering  of  all  to  join  in  the  great  dance  of 
the  Allegro.  There  seemed  to  be  in  Beethoven 
and  Schubert  in  the  beginning  of  their  sym- 
phonies a  common  feeling  of  solemn  dedi- 
cation to  high  purpose,  which  broke  gently 
and  with  increasing  momentum  into  exuberant 
song. 

Suddenly  there  is  a  burst  into  that  indefinite 
joyousness,  just  like  the  Finale  of  Beethoven's 
Fifth  in  its  vague  and  boisterous  turbulence. 
The  literal  mind  must  have  its  concrete  tradi- 
tions. It  is  uneasy  without  the  official  themes. 
Otherwise,  there  is  too  much  barbaric  high 
spirits.  Indeed,  this  work  is  to  some  sympho- 
nies, above  all  to  the  Unfinished,  what  certain 

scenery  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  is  to  other 
203 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

of  the  Italian  Alps.     You  must  view  it  more 
broadly,  with  larger  angle  of  sight. 

Here  the  noisy  strum  of  the  strings  comes 
from  an  earlier  phrase,  alternating  with  a  swell- 
ing vibration  of  the  woodwind  and  horns : 


Allegro  ma  non  troppo. 


Strings  doubled  above 
and  below. 


But  the  only  definite  mood   is  just  at  the 
close,  whence  more  light  and  more  delight  are 

WOODWIND  (doubled  above) ;  BASS  AND  DRUMS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


I 


shed  on  the  rehearsing  of  earlier  melody.  On 
goes  the  constant  motion  of  the  original  strain 
in  the  strings,  with  continual  breaking  in  of  the 
jolly  twittering  of  woodwind  and  horns,  with 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

answering  trumpet-calls,  which  increase  in 
vehemence,  with  an  occasional  descent  into 
melody.  Then  back  to  the  main  rhythmic 


r 


strain,  when  suddenly  a  new  tune,  with  strange 

Oboes,  doubled  below  in  Fagots  ;  Brass  sustaining  the  harmony. 


206 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


swing  and  accent,  is  heard  in  the  oboes  and 
fagots.  It  is  immediately  taken  up  by  flutes 
and  clarionets  in  higher  pitch.  Then  both 
groups  fight  for  the  word,  shouting  and  an- 
swering back.  Later  there  is  a  new  accent  in 
whimsical  humor. 

Once  in  a  certain  swinging  pace  of  answering 
strains,  with  occasional  intrusion  of  chord  or 
cadence  from  the  whole  chorus,  and  of  straying 
through  cycles  of  tonal  scenery,  there  seems  to 
be  no  end,  as  if  all  time  were  before  us, — what 
made  Schumann  speak  of  the  "heavenly  length." 
At  last,  before  returning  to  the  beginning,  we 
enter  on  a  broad,  sweeping,  universal  cadence, 
where  the  strings  give  the  support  of  quivering 
rhythm.  Thrice  the  phrase  is  sung,  each  time 
with  greater  emphasis ;  the  last,  ascending  to 
the  highest  summit,  is  absolutely  conclusive : 
207 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

FULL  ORCHESTRA. 

Violins  vibrating  in  unison  with  the  respective  wind-parts  ; 
Fagots  doubling  the  melody  below. 


« 


Zfajj  doubled  below. 


f 


'- 


jL.       _i 


208 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


I  think  there  is  no  mistaking  a  Hungarian 
flavor  in  the  second  melody.  This  rhythmic 
touch  of  the  Slavonic  constantly  appears,  as 
elsewhere  in  Schubert.  It  serves  to  lend  a 
greater  breadth  to  the  Teutonic  vein ;  it  helps 
us  unconsciously  to  transcend  the  limits  of  mere 
national  feeling. 

Sometimes  there  seems  to  be  a  characteristic 
tendency  towards  extension  instead  of  depth. 
But  in  reality  we  have  both  ;  there  is  surely  no 
lack  of  the  maze  of  discoursing  themes.  In 
the  discussion  proper,  which  begins  after  repeated 
singing  of  melodies,  there  is  at  first  a  predomi- 
nance of  the  Hungarian  elfish  (second)  melody, 
with  an  added  touch  of  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream  through  Mendelssohn  eyes. 

But  the  rhythm  of  the  first  melody  constantly 

u  2°9 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Oboes,  doubled  above  in  Flutes. 


U 


.   •  —  •*=*  —  —  0-* 


Strings  with  lower  bass-note. 


— * * ^ /^f      r       •     '     I        > ; « »-=( 

~      i  ±  r  y T  u     r*r  ^  i 


OBOES  AND  CLARIONETS  (joined  by  Fagots  below). 

>  > 

rW —      y~»  r^ri ,  T  y-  ,"  •  I  ^=f  »  •. 

STRINGS'*'        Q^U   "^U         U>^ 

intrudes  in  the  strings,  always  alternating  with 
the  strain  of  the  elves  through  magic  changes 
of  light.  But  the  rougher  rhythm  is  reinforced, 


VIOLINS  AND  VIOLAS. 


:ft*lr-T— H — J- 

^^f^ 


_L 


p 

M 


=£ 


m 


CELLOS  AND  BASSES. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


striding  up  and  down  in  contrary  motion,  each 
way  in  double  ranks,  until  with  its  multitudinous 
movement  it  seems  to  triumph,  although  the 
daintier  rhythm  is  never  lost.  On  through  all 
sorts  of  lights  and  shades  of  tonal  landscape, 
into  a  series  of  delicious  suspended  discords  (of 
which  Schumann  later  learned  the  special  trick), 
while  the  rough  motion  of  the  first  theme  is 
drawn  out  in  length  until  against  the  various 
dance  of  the  rest  the  bass  in  strings  and  brass  is 
solemnly  sounding  its  legend  : 


In  a  sudden  lull  from  the  resounding  chorus 
the  same  series  of  exquisite  discords  is  heard 
most  lightly,  with  melodious  question  and  an- 
swer between  voices  in  woodwind  and  strings  : 

FLUTES. 
VIOLINS  sustained  by  CLARIONETS. 


^       **  CELLOS  AND  FAGOTS. 

211 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

&     J 


^  CELLOS  AND  BASSES. 


Finally,  again  the  lower  strings,  joined  later  by 
higher  clarionets,  sing  the  solemn  chant  against 
quivering  violins,  in  a  cadence  whence  the 


FAGOTS  sustaining  the  harmony. 


Doubled  above  and  below 


,t;    J{5 


1 


original  song  of  melodies  is  rehearsed  to  the 
end.  It  is  all  quite  the  same  as  at  first,  but 
magnified  and  heightened  in  the  brilliancy  of 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

responsive  song  of  tunes,  in  the  mad  abandon 
of  movement ;  above  all  in  the  wonderful  play 
of  what  musicians  call  modulation,  of  tonal 
color,  like  the  magician's  dazzling  change  of 
chromatic  light.  All  is  the  same  except  the 
last  word,  best  of  all.  Where  we  expect  the 
final  chord,  the  whole  chorus  break  in  confident, 
joyful  tone  into  the  melody  of  the  invocation. 
Somehow,  timidity,  questioning,  is  gone.  With 
the  clear  assurance  of  its  rounded  close,  it  is  no 
longer  Invocation ;  it  is  the  Fulfilment. 

Andante  con  Moto. 

At  last  Schubert's  long  restrained  melody 
has  a  vent.  As  the  Allegro  was  all  vague 
motion,  this  is  pure,  continuous  melody, — one 
golden  fabric. 

To  "  explain"  this  lyric  gem  seems  imperti- 
nent for  two  opposite  reasons, — its  simplicity 
and  its  mystery.  It  is  the  typical  paradox  of 
the  master  himself.  There  is,  throughout,  the 
puzzling  blending  of  lightest  humor  with 
deep  meaning.  At  the  outset  it  seems  clearly 
a  restrained  dance.  But  there  is  no  escaping 
the  sense  of  secret  meaning,  as  in  Beethoven's 
Allegretto  of  the  seventh  symphony,  and  espe- 
213 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

cially  in  these  first  six  bars,  where,  similarly,  the 
tuneful  bass  foreshadows  the  coming  melody : 


Andante  con  moto. 
>  STRINGS. 


Then  to  the  same  sprightly  step  comes  the 
song  of  principal  melody  by  oboe : 

OBOE. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

m 


\Vith  sustaining  Fagots  and  Horns. 

If  we  cared  to  analyze  more  technically,  we 
could  see  how  the  mixture  of  minor  mood 
with  sprightly  gait  helps  the  mystery.  But, 
usually,  in  groping  for  ingredients,  in  tearing 
apart  the  rose-petals,  the  main  fragrance  is 
lost. 

But  the  curious  impersonal  quality  of  the 
melody  is  seen  by  contrast  in  the  little  con- 
cluding strain  in-  friendly  major,  with  a  clear, 
sudden  touch  of  human  feeling.  Again,  it  is 

like  the  Trio  in  the  Beethoven  Allegretto : 
215 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


But  in  the  next  boisterous  blast  of  the  whole 
band  and  in  the  striding  of  strings  in  mock 
heroic  dignity,  there  is  no  doubt  the  childlike, 


Turn. 


playful  humor,  pure  fun,  whence,  through 
warning  signs  to  hold  our  faces,  we  return  to 
the  serious  beauty  of  the  first  melody.  Still, 
it  is  now  not  the  first  song  in  doubling  duet ; 


216 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

but  there  is  the  daintiest  interplay  between  the 
phrases  of  gentlest  mockery  : 


OBOE  AND  CLARIONET. 

-/.         L -PS! . 


How  wonderful  is  the  versatile  power  of 
music  for  mirroring  humor.  Could  any  words, 
spoken  or  written,  possibly  approach  remotely 
its  delicate  changes?  Here,  while  the  boisterous 
merriment  is  so  apparent,  yet,  after  these  four 
accented  warning  E\  with  all  the  delicious 
lightness  of  fancy,  there  is  not  a  touch  of 
Teuton  fun.  It  is  all  Oriental  fantasy.  Those 
phases  move  through  various  contrasting  rounds 
until  a  third  mood  is  upon  us.  Again  there 
is  no  doubt  of  the  meaning.  And,  again,  it  is 
what  we  had  thought  a  special  Schumann  feel- 
ing.  It  is,  too,  a  good  instance  of  the  way  the 
greatest  masters  are  constantly  using  the  simplest 


217 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

themes, — the   proverbial    union   of   simplicity 
with  highest  art. 

Nothing  is  more  natural  than  this  descent  of 
four  notes.  To  be  sure,  the  preliminary  step 
of  the  bass  down  two  full  tones  has  much  to 
do  with  it  all. 


FLUTES  AND 
OUOES. 


Now  all  mystery  of  spirit  land  is  absolutely 
gone.  Here  is  an  intimate,  human  dialogue, — 
unter  vier  Augen,  as  the  Germans  say ;  and  the 


218 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

little   endings,  always   recurring   like  repeated 
friendly  greetings,  with  assurance  of  good-will: 


Woodwind  doubled  abc 


But  immediately  with  the  descent  into  minor, 
there  is  the  momentary  slight  transition  to  the 
hazier  realm.  For  the  moment  there  is  a  refuge 
in  a  playful  strain,  hiding  the  head  in  ostrich 
fashion.  Then  through  curiously  repeated  warn- 


Clarionet  and  Fagot  below. 


ing   notes    held    unchanged,    through    shifting 
harmonic   scenery,  in   the   horns,    heralds   of 


219 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

legends,  we  are  back  in  another  canto  of  our 
Arabian  fairy  story. 

Now  to  the  original  mysterious  melody  of 
oboe  is  added  in  horns  and  trumpets,  later  in 
violins,  a  still  lighter  playfulness.  It  is  a  little 
like  a  child  playing  in  the  midst  of  danger, — 
Media  in  vita,  etc. : 


The  side  tunes  grow  ever  more  melodious. 
So  again  come  the  other  phases,  similarly  en- 
riched. When  next  the  humorous  episode 
comes  round,  with  the  sudden  noisy  burst  and 
the  strutting  of  strings,  it  is  much  extended. 
The  woodwind  in  a  minor  blast  seems  to  have 
a  difference  of  opinion  with  the  strings  in  the 
major.  All  through  there  is  the  evident  ten- 
dency to  amplify,  to  repeat,  to  hold  the  floor : 
inevitably  the  old  Schubert  trick  of  talking  for 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

an  inspiration.  There  are  strange  strokes  of  the 
whole  orchestra  in  unison,  alternating  with  an 
ominous  chord,  which  interrupt  the  merry  skip- 
ping up  and  down : 


Strings  doubled  beloiv. 


This  continues  in  almost  pure  iteration,  with 
hardly  perceptible  variation,  always  with  inter- 
rupting chords  arresting  the  skipping  move- 
ment, until  we  feel  ourselves  unexpectedly  rush- 
ing somewhere,  with  increasing  violence,  at  last 
leaping  furiously  on  a  final  height. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

And  here  is  again  that  best  of  all,  that  golden 
nugget.  We  knew  it  would  come  if  Schubert 
would  hold  on,  like  the  angler  playing  patiently 
for  his  trout.  Of  a  sudden,  out  of  the  wild, 
insistent  chord  of  mad  questioning,  after  a 
complete  pause,  comes  a  transformation  of 
scene  or  mood.  Instinctively  we  feel  we  must 
not  inquire  into  the  magic  of  the  master.  A 
sudden  change  of  tonal  color,  whose  like  is 
nowhere  in  music,  brings  a  new  strain  in  the 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

cellos  on  a  former  subject  in  simplest  con- 
fidence. 

There  was  a  subtle  way  of  transition  by 
smallest  step  as  through  secret  spring ;  the 
slighter  the  outer  change  or  journey,  the  greater 
the  transformation.  No  one  knew  this  secret 
spring  save  Schubert ;  with  him  it  died. 

The  first  time,  the  close  is  in  dreamily 
mournful  minor ;  the  second,  with  the  same 
confiding  song,  the  close  is  the  clearest  reas- 
surance of  serene  major,  whence  we  continue 
directly  into  another  verse  in  the  friendly  strain 
of  the  second  melody,  with  its  artless,  homely 
phrase. 

A  keen  man  of  literary  power  has  suggested, 
among  his  friends,  a  classing  of  composers  in 
some  such  way  as  :  1  st,  The  Prophet ;  2d,  The 
Counsellor;  3d,  The  Friend;  4th,  The  Tempter. 
It  is  exactly  true.  And  we  are  reminded  of  it 
by  the  analogous  variety  of  relation  in  one 
master.  Clearly  Schubert  has  at  first  more  of 
the  impersonal  seer,  even  stern  monitor,  and 
then  quickly  glides  into  friendliest,  soothing 
speech.  So  comes  again  the  momentary  strain 
of  playfulness ;  again  the  warning  herald  notes 

in  the  horn  of  the  final  verse  of  the  fanciful 
223 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

legend.  There  is  now  a  curious  chariness  in 
ornament  and  rhythm,  a  halting  in  the  last 
words,  as  if  to  add  a  certain  insistent  sincerity. 
The  dance  has  almost  ceased.  It  is  no  longer 
the  child  playing  in  the  lightning.  It  is  more 
reflective,  with  a  fine  little  ereooi,  a  minor  mem- 
ory of  an  old  strain.  With  kindly  humor,  it 
marches  up  the  hill — and  down  again : 

OBOE  ( joined  by  Clarionet  and  Flute). 


224 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Scherzo,  Allegro  Vivace. 

We  are  so  accustomed  to  humor  in  words 
that  it  is  difficult  to  think  of  its  utterance 
through  another  medium.  To  some,  I  suppose, 
humor  in  music  is  almost  incredible.  To  dis- 
cuss such  a  question  is  to  be  drawn  into  an 
endless  perambulation,  losing  our  way  utterly 
from  the  central  purpose.  The  trouble  lies  largely 
in  the  scope  of  the  word  humor.  Sometimes 
it  does  seem  that,  while  for  the  expression  of 
feeling  music  is  far  the  most  powerful  of  the 
arts,  humorous  utterance  is  easiest  in  prose. 
But  here  it  would  become  necessary  to  distin- 
guish elements  of  humor,  or  at  least  different 
kinds,  where  the  danger  of  straying  looms 
greater  than  ever.  It  may  not  be  too  broad  to 
say  that  when  humor  is  largely  compact  of 
light,  merry  sentiment,  music  is  still  the  more 
natural  medium.  Much  of  the  humor  we  are 
accustomed  to,  seems  largely  a  game,  with  a 
jumbling  together  of  concrete  things,  where 
by  accident  a  striking  contrast  results.  There 
is  much  more  of  chance  here  than  of  original, 
creative  feeling.  It  necessarily  lies  out  of  the 
bounds  of  music,  which  has  naught  to  do  with 
visible  realities. 

.5  225 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Humor,  as  in  a  conventional  sense,  the  rut 
of  common  minds,  is  no  more  important  than 
a  meaningless  game ;  in  another  sense  it  may 
need  the  highest  power  of  human  thought  and 
utterance. 

The  instinct  for  surprise,  for  sudden  contrast 
of  opposites,  has  certainly  a  free  field  in  music. 
The  very  first  of  the  secular  masters,  Haydn, 
was  eminently  a  humorist.  I  have  seen  a 
musical  child  laugh  involuntarily  over  a  Haydn 
scherzo.  Beethoven's  humor  we  have  studied. 
It  was  not  altogether  amusing.  It  is  that  rare 
compounding  of  serious  latent  purpose  with 
the  show  of  lightness.  It  is  not  cynical ;  for  a 
warped,  a  hopeless  sentiment  cannot  be  uttered 
in  high  art.  If  it  could,  Offenbach  would  be 
a  classic.  Sardonic  it  can  fairly  be  called ;  and 
thus  music  again  shows  a  distinction  of  feeling 
more  clearly  than  any  words.  Between  the 
qualities  of  humor  of  Beethoven  and  of  Offen- 
bach, not  to  speak  at  all  of  the  strength,  is  an 
infinite  gulf.  Sinister,  even,  Beethoven  appears 
often.  But  it  is  all,  like  other  universal  minds, 
like  Aristophanes,  like  Cervantes,  like  Shake- 
speare, it  is  discoursing,  in  apparent  play,  on  the 
highest  themes.  It  is  in  central  purpose  neither 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

light  nor  despondent.  The  frivolous  dance  in 
the  seventh  symphony  is  really  a  cosmic  joy ; 
the  temporary  gloom  of  the  fifth  makes  the 
final  triumph  all  the  brighter. 

We  cannot  pretend  that  Schubert  has  herein 
any  similarity  to  Beethoven.  Nor  can  it  be 
said  that  Schubert  had  striking  humor;  we 
should  not  call  him  humorist.  He  had  not 
the  keen  power  of  conjuring  strange  oppo- 
sites :  the  comic  was  not  his  favorite  element. 
He  was  not  disciplined  in  its  special  expres- 
sion. So  it  seems  his  scherzo  mood  lapses 
into^mere  merriment,  not  sharply  distinct  from 
other  allegro  feeling  save  perhaps  in  its  irre- 
sponsible lightness: 

SCHERZO. 
Allegro  "vivace. 


** f *y • 

STRINGS. 
Doubled  below  in  two  octaves. 


This  theme  of  the  scherzo  strikes  us,  in 
its  unison,  with  a  certain  clownish  heaviness, 
lightly  answered  in  the  woodwind,  with  playful 

drums  beating  clumsily  at  the  theme ; 

227 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


OBOES. 


It  rushes  with  headlong  speed  to  a  climax  in 
a  cousin  key,  whence,  while  clarionets  and 
fagots  are  still  chattering  away  at  the  theme, 
the  violins  and  cellos  have  a  duet  in  a  melody 
where  play  is  more  blended  with  romance. 
But  again  the  boisterous  spirit  dominates.  Its 
further  career,  the  bass  ponderously  dancing  to 
the  quick  theme,  seems  all  committed  to  noisy 
motion,  when  suddenly  the  elf  feeling,  which 
gleamed  here  and  there  in  the  first  movement, 
dances  forth  alone  from  the  earlier  turbulence : 

OBOES  AND  CLARIONETS. 


I    1 


FAGOTS  AND  VIOLAS. 


228 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 
tfc 


And  so  through  jolly  mocking  of  piping, 
laughing  wood  and  buzzing  strings.  All  at 
once  the  latter  have  dwindled  to  strumming  of 
dance  beat,  and  the  flute  sings  aloft  a  clear, 

WOODWIND. 


Strings,  with  initial  beat  in  basses. 
229 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

gentle  song,  and  in  a  new  scene  in  the  forest, 
by  one  of  those  unpremeditated  tone  changes 
of  the  poet's. 

And  now  the  same  song  is  heard  in  another 
corner  of  the  wood,  from  the  oboe,  but  more 
boisterously,  until  the  dance  can  no  longer  be 
restrained,  and  the  old  fun  breaks  out  much 
more  freely  and  stormily  than  before.  With 
the  Titanic  horse-play  there  is  the  sharp  alter- 
nation of  daintiest  talk  of  sprites,  mostly  of 
violins,  each  having  his  say  in  turn  in  the 


phrase,  ending  the  scherzo  much  in  the  original 
burst.  In  the  Trio,  though  it  is  still  more 
clearly  not  humorous,  we  have  surely  gained 
more  than  we  have  lost.  A  poet  cannot  be 
held  down  to  cracking  jokes  at  certain  fixed 
seasons.  There  is  something  finer  here  vhan 
subtlest  jesting.  And  who  shall  say  it  does  not 
belong  in  a  scherzo  ?  The  first  impression  is  of 
the  double  charm  of  an  eternal,  joyous  swing 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

and  a  clear,  simple  song.  It  is  one  of  those 
places  where  we  suddenly  hear  human  singing 
in  the  orchestra.  In  every  way  there  is  con- 
trast with  the  preceding,-^-in  the  gentle  gliding, 
in  the  sweet  simplicity  of  the  song,  in  every 
way  save  one ;  though  we  cannot  clearly  see. 
Somehow,  the  rate  of  movement  is  exactly 
the  same  as  before,  under  different  gujse.  The 
charm  of  the  constant,  swinging,  sweeping 
motion,  of  greatest  speed  with  least  show  of 
effort,  is  indescribable, — like  the  march  of  a 
big  Niagara,  like  the  planets  themselves.  Dis- 
tinct from  the  song,  the  swinging  pace  is 
double,  the  even  gliding  phrase  of  violins,  ever 
ending  with  the  skip  of  the  brass.  Or  rather 
it  is  the  constant  mingling  of  two  distinct 
paces,  the  glide  and  the  skip,  where  now  one, 
now  the  other  is  in  relief,  according  to  the 
ear  of  the  hearer.  One  supplies  the  continuous 
element  of  perennial  go,  the  other  gives  the 
perpetual  fillip  of  new  impulse.  And  in  united 
woodwind,  blending  the  various  motion  is  the 
broad  sweep  of  the  great  universal  love-song, 
too  big  for  fragmental  discussion,  pouring  out 
verse  after  verse,  a  stream  of  purest  melody, 
without  economy  of  themal  logic: 
231 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

WOODWIND  (doubled  above). 


And  with  this  faithful  accompaniment  of 
motion  the  song  continues  : 

t-S     I  .     I  _     —I 4- 


£=*s*^-H^=^ 

— I         — 1 ~^— — — x^- 


Then  off  into  the  minor,  always  with  the 
loyal  satellites,  with  the  same  sweep,  and  with 
232 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


all  the  events  of  a  song,  surprises  of  tonal 
color,  of  closes  that  do  not  end,  of  those 
special  intimate  asides  of  Schubert's : 


WOODWIND. 


» 

— *• SJT 

^  STRINGS. 


4 I- 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 
Here  a  broader  swing  than  ever  bursts  forth  : 


Woodwind,  doubled  above  and  below. 


all  with  pervading  completeness  and  perennial 
freshness,  that  is  hopeless  to  suggest  without 
full  quotation.  Always  the  dainty  reserve  and 
the  broad  pealing  forth,  each  inviting  the  other 
in  turn.  There  seems  no  reason  why  it  should 
end,  except  that  all  things  end.  In  all  this 
never  varying  continuity  of  subsidiary  motion, 
and  the  constant  swing  of  the  song,  changing 
only  in  its  own  burden,  there  is  a  great  sense 
of  freedom  from  restraint  and  commotion. 

Never  before  or  since  has  a  master  so  ignored 
the  element  of  discussion.  We  feel  we  have 
reached  an  empyrean  of  lyric  song  which  is 
above  all  mystery,  above  even  questioning  and 
the  need  of  discourse.  The  fall  to  the  scherzo 
is  almost  that  of  the  proverb, — certainly  from 
the  sublime  to  the  humorous. 
234 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Finale,  Allegro  Vivace. 

We  have  followed  the  symphony  so  far,  say- 
ing little  of  a  general  plan.  It  is  perhaps  less 
apparent  than  in  the  great  Beethoven  poems, 
the  Eroica,  the  Fifth  and  Seventh  Symphonies. 
But  while  we  might  easily  have  guessed  a  gen- 
eral meaning  earlier,  it  is,  after  all,  our  rule  to 
cloud  the  evidence  of  the  music  itself  as  little 
as  possible  with  our  own  preconception, — 
rather  to  have  the  pervading  quality  break 
upon  us  unwitting,  convincing  us  with  the 
reinforced  evidence  from  all  regions  of  the 
work. 

But  inevitably  the  first  sounds  of  the  Finale 
bring  us  back  to  the  broad  scale  of  the  begin- 
ning. It  is  the  same  vague  carelessness  of 


FINALE. 

Allegro  vivace. 


Doubled  above  and  two  octaves  below. 
235 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


articulate  tune  ;  fearlessness  of  endless  iteration 
of  an  expressive  strain ;  a  perpetual  go ;  an 
ever-impelling  drive  that  knows  no  rest ;  a 
vagueness  of  utterance  for  its  own  sake. 

The  first  approach  to  definite  phrase  (strange 
how  in  defined  expression  there  is  at  once  a 
descent  from  the  very  joy  we  are  uttering !)  is 
in  the  oboes,  doubled  by  fagots  below,  while 
the  violins  keep  up  the  ceaseless  flow  of  motion, 
and  the  basses  and  the  horns  give  the  motive 
impulse,  adding  something  of  the  pulsing 
rhythm  of  the  Trio  : 

236 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

STRINGS   (the  melody  played  in  quarter-notes  by  Oboes, 
and  Fagots  below). 


Most  of  the  charm  must  lie  in  the  sense  of 
endless,  pleasant  motion,  like  the  first  railroad 
journey  or  ocean  voyage.  And,  as  in  the 
Trio,  the  accompanying  movement  once  estab- 
lished, the  song  sweeps  freely  along,  singing  its 
burden,  without  heed  of  other  voices : 


237 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

soaring  boldly  into  higher  and  still  higher 
flights,  and  ever  the  unceasing  rush  of  cours- 
ing violins  and  pelting  horns  until  there  is  an 
unheard  of,  overpowering  momentum.  Sud- 
denly we  are  in  the  first  phrase,  with  answering 
cadences,  whence  we  find  ourselves  in  episodes 
of  sheer  drive : 


WOODWIND  (doubled  below). 


fa  fa' 

STRINGS  (doubled  above  and  below). 


fa 


The  profound  discourse  of  polyphony,  even 
the  lyric  distinctness  of  melody,  are  all  forgotten 
in  this  onward,  restless,  and  ceaseless  coursing. 
At  most,  there  are- some  such  answering  strains 
as  that  which  immediately  follows  the  last 
quoted  phrase.  Oft  reiterated  are  these  pound- 
ing passages  of  pure,  rushing  rhythm  all  carried 
to  a  furious  climax,  where  the  wind  hold  a  long 
238 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

WOODWIND  (doubled  an  octave  above  and  below). 


STRINGS  (doubled  an  octave  above  and  below). 


T 


chord,  while  strings  and  drums  are  exhausting 
their  momentum  on  the  simplest  figure,  ending 
abruptly  in  a  crash : 


Doubled  twice  below. 


After  a  lull,  during  which  you  can  almost 
hear  the  drive  as  you  see  the  sun  with  closed 
239 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

eyes,  suddenly  here  is  the  melodic  germ,  the 
heart  of  the  movement,  always  sure  to  come, 
like  gold  to  the  miner,  after  those  long  ham- 
merings of  Schubert.  It  is  a  miniature  of 
the  old  gigantic  thumping,  as  of  shadowy 
imps.  But  the  grace  is  rarer  than  before,  and, 
above  all,  here,  out  of  the  four  long  notes, 
a  song  proceeds,  clear  and  human  : 


OBOES  AND  CLARIONETS 
CLARIONETS.          (doubled  below  in  Fagots). 


VIOLINS. 


J  I'll"1      J 


1      J' 


CELLOS  AND  BASSES. 


*F=r==^f 


240 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


(&S 

\fr=8-+r- 


All  the  pent-up  vagueness  has  found  speech, 
in  which  it  glories,  exults,  revels,  first  timidly 
whispering,  then  with  involuntary  burst,  retiring 
again  into  almost  inaudible  recesses  and  hidden 
scenes ;  suddenly  breaking  forth  into  clear  light 
with  glad  presence,  with  unrestrained  shouts, 
and  all  supported  with  this  irresistible  dance. 
Indeed,  we  cannot  let  it  go.  When  the  poet 
returns  to  the  older,  stiffer  movement,  we  cry 
out  for  the  gladder  step,  as  for  a  native  element, 
and — we  get  it.  Just  those  four  hammering 
notes  with  the  clattering  course.  And  we  are 
happy  in  the  mere  motion,  in  all  guises,  higher 
and  higher ;  now  thundering  near  by,  now  hum- 
ming far  off, — at  last  with  a  seeming  end  in  the 
broad  cadence,  while  the  violins  are  vibrating 

WOODWIND  AND  BRASS  (doubled  above  and  below). 


241 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

to  the  same  tune  and  the  low  horns  and  strings 
are  holding  up  the  harmony.  But  instead  of 
ending,  the  latter  basses  are  shouting  out  the 
tune  a  little  varied,  while  the  others  are  not  so 


Doubled  below. 


important,  diminishing  in  violence  and  repeating 
more  softly,  while  the  high  woodwind  soon 
take  courage  and  join  the  tune  in  piping  pitch. 
But  soon  we  are  in  a  mere  vague  hum  of  the 
low  strings,  while  some  wood  and  brass  notes 
are  hopping  faintly  at  the  old  dance.*  And  thus 
dying  down  to  a  murmur,  we  are  willing  to 
wake  suddenly  and,  returning  to  the  beginning, 
go  through  the  glad  frolic  again.  When  that 
is  over  we  sit  down  and  think  it  over.  We  can 
now  be  a  little  reflective.  So  we  toss  the  fine 
tune,  now  our  own  by  long  search,  about  here 
and  there,  while  movement  is  reduced  to  the 
least  shuffling  in  the  strings,  suggestive,  it  is 
true,  of  the  old  rhythm.  Very  softly,  in  a  new 

*  The  hearer  must  not  be  literal  nor  too  consistent. 
Ke  must  follow  about  with  quick  sympathy  of  insight. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


scenic  spot,  we  sing  the  song  and  quietly  add 
an  answering  strain : 

CLARIONETS. 

XjL 


STRINGS. 


T    * 

FLUTES. 


E*E5= 


-* 


OBOES. 


— 0— -£— 


Octave  above  in  flutes,  below  in  fagots. 


**=*3m 


243 


SYxMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  whole  atmosphere  is  changed.  There  is 
a  shadowy  gloom  of  deepening  woods,  of 
coming  dusk.  The  air  is  cooler.  There  is  a 
half  sadness  of  reflection  as  bits  of  the  theme 
occur  here  and  there, — in  minor,  too,  in  con- 
fused, jumbling  comparison  with  others.  In  the 
dreaminess  the  dance  is  almost  gone.  But  soon 
a  new  energy  appears.  The  high  violins  sing 
the  melody  with  a  kind  of  trembling  anxious- 

STRINGS. 

*4J  -*  * 


#  #     #  #     j       *• 

f    f     t 

-g^-cJUgL-i-f 


3  i^-  ii  * 


ness,   still    higher,    more    plaintively   and    in- 
sistently, the  wind  gradually  joining  in  sym- 
244 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

pathy,  finally,  almost  in  triumph.  And  now 
the  glorious  old  psean  sounds  out  in  basses  and 
brass  (giving  increased  assurance),  while  the 
rest  shout  in  fervent  acclaim  : 

STRINGS. 


Here  it  is  one  long  triumphal  procession. 
Nothing  can  describe  the  terrible  magnificence 
of  this  elemental  dance.  The  very  ground 
under  us  is  rocking  to  the  rhythm,  not  to 
speak  of  the  increasing  maze  of  voices  singing 
245 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


the  answering  phrases  in  disjointed  confusion. 
When  at  its  height,  the  cellos  are  discovered 
very  softly  but  firmly  sustaining  the  marching 
song,  while  the  violins  are  mockingly  strut- 
ting about ;  oboes  and  fagots  are  gently  sing- 
ing a  new  melody  in  unconscious  harmony 
with  the  rest.  The  only  ominous  figures  are 
the  drums  beating  softly  and  continuously. 
They  soon  betray  their  purpose,  when,  first 
faintly,  then  more  insistently,  the  motive  is 


heard  summoning  all  gradually  back,  trooping. 
more  and  more  tumultuously,  once  again  to 
the  original  chorus  ; 


Tutti,    OBOES  (with  Fagots  below). 
doubled  above.  \*~ 


BASSES  AND  DRUMS. 
246 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


The  final  refrain  of  the  old  order  of  melodies 
is  in  the  usual  broad  spirit.  The  first  smooth 
melody  of  the  woodwind  is  often  rehearsed  in 
minor,  to  ascend  the  more  joyfully  into  corre- 
sponding major.  After  all  the  prelude  and 
actual  entrance  of  the  great  phrase  of  childlike 
triumph,  there  is  the  loud  singing  of  the  smooth 
melody  in  the  basses,  again  dying  down  to  a 
lull.  But  from  here  on  it  is  little  more  than 
ever  eager  cries  of  the  great  melody,  in  first  part 
and  second.  Towards  the  end,  the  former 
comes  in  four  mighty  thumps  in  sheer  hard 
unison  tones  (almost  unmusical),  followed  by 
four  chords  shouting  in  answer, — question  and 
answer  recurring  again  and  again,  lapsing  at  last 
into  the  broad  cadence.  Then  the  whole  sym- 
phony ends  in  the  trumpet  calls  which  begin 
the  last  Allegro,  and  in  the  spirit  of  fanfart 
which  began  and  pervades  the  whole. 
247 


VIII 

SCHUMANN 


IT  is  a  most  interesting  question  just  what 
and  where  is  the  greatest  work  of  any  poet 
or  musician,  and  it  is,  of  course,  closely  akin 
to  the  secret,  perhaps  unfathomable,  of  Art 


We  are  apt  to  fall  into  a  rather  palpable 
error  ;  to  confound  greatness  in  dimensions  with 
grea\ness  in  substance  ;  to  think  that  the  longest 
works,  nr  those  on  the  largest  scale,  or  those  on 
which  the  poet  has  most  toiled,  or  of  which  he 
was  most  ambitious,  are  necessarily  his  master- 
pieces. We  have  all  heard  the  famous  advice 
to  destroy  whatever  seems  in  the  writing  most 
happy. 

The  question  is,  it  seems,  much  more  subtle 
than  has  been  supposed.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  just  as  some  men,  very  like  others  in  most 
respects,  perhaps  in  many  inferior,  for  hidden 
reasons  will  utter  thoughts  infinitely  more  valu- 
able to  the  world,  just  so  the  same  man,  for 
248 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

reasons  occult  to  himself,  will  at  times  be  a 
prophet,  at  others  a  bore.  Much  of  Schubert, 
much  of  Beethoven,  is  not  the  real  Schubert,  is 
not  the  real  Beethoven.  Perhaps  it  all  comes 
back,  after  all,  to  the  quality  we  have  so  often 
given  stress, — unconsciousness.  It  is  the  strange, 
almost  contradictory  element  of  tonal  art  in 
particular.  It  seems  that  the  best  of  man's 
thought  is  uttered  when  he  is  not  watching 
himself;  that  no  man  can  work  his  highest, 
with  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  existing  con- 
ditions of  his  art ;  so  that  it  seems  almost  true 
advice  to  a  poet  to  reject  his  own  judgment. 
There  seems  to  be  a  secret  magic  in  the  lack  of 
conscious  deliberation.  Yet,  we  are  asked, 
Where  is  then  our  art,  our  hard  achieved  mas- 
tery, if  we  are  not  to  use  it  as  resource  in  our 
design  ?  The  answer  comes  with  inevitable 
iteration ;  all  this  past  struggle  and  mastery  has 
full  weight,  but  only  as  unconscious  resource, 
as  experience  rather  than  study.  So  there  is  no 
advice  here  to  dispense  with  toil,  to  shout  forth 
our  first  wild  emotion,  without  care  of  clear 
and  true  expression ;  for  the  more  we  toil  in 
reverent  pursuit  of  our  art,  the  more  powerful 
we  are  for  unpremeditated  utterance.  It  is,  on 
249 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  contrary,  the  one  who  lacks  the  patience  for 
mastery,  who  fails  in  this  respect  to  his  art,  that 
is  most  often  driven  to  deliberate  calculation 
and  padding  labor.  It  is  the  early  discipline 
that,  never  relaxed,  produces  the  perfect  mastery 
of  language,  which  is  indispensable  for  true 
spontaneity.  The  element  of  work,  which 
must  enter  into  all  art,  at  first  was  toil,  later 
is  forgotten  in  the  joy  of  utterance.  While 
founded  on  this  hidden  basis  of  early  apprentice- 
ship, a  true  art  work  must  spring  from  an  invol- 
untary feeling,  must  not  be  too  compact  of 
conscious  care. 

It  is  thus  an  absorbing  question :  Where  is 
the  greatest  Schumann  ?  It  seems,  sometimes, 
that  his  genius  did  not  find  perfect  content  in 
the  forms  hallowed  by  the  highest  art  before 
him ;  that  he  may  have  turned  to  them  in  a 
spirit  of  challenge,  to  show  his  mettle.  To 
show  the  maze  of  such  a  problem, — it  is  quite 
possible  to  hold  that  whole  passages  of  his 
symphonies  are  more  beautiful  than  any  of  his 
shorter  works,  and  yet  that,  as  a  whole,  the 
latter  may  be  superior.  There  is  a  tremendous 
responsibility  about  large  dimensions  ;  so  that  a 
long  episode  of  the  greatest  perfection  may  be 
250 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

actually  neutralized  by  failure  in  proportion 
and  relation  of  the  rest. 

Schumann's  was  a  poet  nature  of  the  sharpest 
individuality,  yet,  withal,  so  deep  and  versatile, 
that  we  have  no  sooner  found  the  typical  trait 
than  we  seem  to  see  it  with  equal  truth  in  each 
of  several  other  qualities.  One  of  the  most 
striking  is  his  power  of  definite  characterization. 
Of  course,  the  mention  of  such  a  thing  brings 
us  back  to  the  old  question  of  the  purpose  of 
the  art.  And  it  suggests  the  query  whether,  if 
feeling  be  constantly  refined  to  an  ever  more 
delicate  shade,  the  final  result  will  be  as  clear  as 
the  verbal  thought.  Only  we  must  never  forget 
that  the  mere  outward  significance,  the  guessing 
of  the  word-title,  is  of  no  value  in  itself 

After  the  climax  of  the  classic  masters,  there 
seems  to  have  been  a  tendency  towards  explor- 
ing the  limits  of  the  power  of  music  to  specialize 
a  "  meaning."  Direct  utterance  of  simple  feel- 
ing yielded  to  this  dazzling  experiment.  Berlioz 
is  probably  the  most  typical  representative  of 
this  tendency;  yet  how  simple  seems  the  refu- 
tation of  his  own  labels  which  he  would  inter- 
sperse through  the  pages.  Opera  was  given  a 
new  impulse.  It  is  most  grateful  to  find  in 
251 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Schumann  just  the  right  perception  of  this 
power  of  music ;  and  it  is  interesting  to  see 
how  his  nature  and  his  training  led  to  the  dis- 
tinguishing quality  of  his  poetry. 

Schumann  and  Mendelssohn  were  the  first 
of  the  masters  born  and  bred  in  a  social  class 
whose  main  function  was  not  the  service  of 
another ;  to  whom  education  and  culture  were 
their  own  right  and  need.  So  Schumann  was 
early  steeped  in  poetry ;  more  so,  indeed,  than 
in  music.  And  his  mind,  thus  inclined  towards 
a  more  reflective  art,  was  confirmed  in  this 
direction  by  a  course,  however  irregular,  in  juris- 
prudence. The  taste  for  meditation  is  hard  to 
abandon.  In  music  its  effect  was  to  lead  men 
to  prefer  to  explore  hidden  recesses  of  thought 
and  of  special  sentiment,  national,  legendary, 
or  local,  rather  than  to  utter  naive  bursts  of 
untitled  feeling.  It  is  not  until  our  day,  of 
Brahms  in  particular,  that  we  have  returned  to 
the  more  natural  attitude. 

Schumann  was  the  first  master  who  had  the 
distinction  not  to  be  an  infant  phenomenon. 
The  most  wonderful  musical  feat  told  of  his 
youth  was  a  mimicry  of  friends  at  the  piano ; 
and  it  is  characteristic,  too,  of  his  later  genius. 
252 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

There  was  here  an  early  temptation  to  translate 
ideas  into  music.  The  boy's  channels  of  influ- 
ence were  literary ;  it  was  thus  that  impressions 
came  to  him.  Music  was  not  his  first  native 
element  in  which  he  lived,  breathed,  listened, 
and  spoke  unconsciously.  He  received  in  verse 
and  gave  out  in  tones.  It  seems  that  this 
habit  found  a  strong  introspective  quality  in 
his  nature  to  build  upon. 

It  cannot  be  difficult  to  see  his  aims  by 
sympathetic  intuition.  To  educated  men  the 
feeling  for  logical  thought  is  almost  the  stay  of 
life.  To  abandon  it  is  like  selling  the  soul.  It 
is  here  that  religion  so  often  fails  to  hold  the 
most  honest  minds.  But  a  generation  or  two 
ago  this  leaning  on  the  saving  grace  of  reason 
was  stronger  far  than  to-day.  The  further  we 
go  from  the  mediaeval  sway  of  deductive  phi- 
losophers, the  less  faith  we  have  in  the  final 
power  of  mere  reasoned  knowledge  to  win 
salvation.  Modern  science,  equally  in  its 
achievements  and  in  its  disappointments,  has 
changed  us.  We  have  certainly  become  more 
agnostic,  and  we  have  been  led  beyond  the  true 
line  by  riotous  fads  and  follies  in  all  the  arts, 
by  abandonment  of  ethical  and  artistic  ideals. 
253 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

We  have  gone  far  astray,  forgetting  that,  while 
deductive  reasoning  can  never  give  original  or 
final  truth  of  itself,  it  is,  yet,  the  only  sure  way 
to  arrive  from  one  truth  to  its  successor.  Indeed, 
the  virtue  lies  not  in  the  logic  of  words,  but 
goes  back  to  the  saving  principle  of  true  sequence. 
It  is  this  word,  more  perhaps  than  any  other, 
which  tells  the  supreme  achievement  of  Schu- 
mann. He  felt  unconsciously  bound  to  add  to 
the  honor  of  his  art  in  thus  increasing  her  power 
of  clear  utterance.  It  is  even  now  the  common 
charge  we  hear  brought  against  music  by  those 
who  are  rather  proud  of  their  ignorance,  that 
music  means  nothing,  is  therefore  a  mere  matter 
of  the  senses.  Every  musician,  until  he  sees 
the  truth,  must  feel  the  sting.  But  the  fact  is 
that  in  its  own  perfect  sequence  lies  the  clearest 
test  of  the  truth  of  its  thought  and  utterance, 
— more  clear  far  than  the  test  of  logic  text- 
book. It  is  in  the  perfect  mastery  of  the  art  in 
all  its  lines,  of  melodic  phrase,  of  combined 
agreement  of  several  strains,  of  the  rounding 
out  of  the  whole,  in  the  verification  of  per- 
fect beauty  of  the  complete  art  work,  that  lies 
the  security  for  real  truth.  For  this  mastery  of 
the  language  gives  the  power  of  uttering  honest 
254 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

feeling;  indeed,  the  connection  is  double,  for 
the  mastery  itself  is  based  originally  on  the 
fundamental  honesty  of  artistic  purpose. 

ft  is  the  inner  perfection  of  workmanship, 
not  the  outer  evidence  of  signs  and  labels,  that 
bears  witness  to  the  truth  of  the  tonal  art. 

Schumann  can  be  seen  striving  in  all  kinds 
of  ways  for  this  hidden  power  of  music.  One 
was  a  curious  device  of  themes  from  the  musical 
letters  of  names  of  special  significance.  For 
instance,  almost  all  the  scenes  of  the  "  Carnival" 
are  based  on  notes  which  represent  the  musical 
letters  of  his  own  name,  S  c  h  a.  They  hap- 
pened to  be  the  same  as  those  of  the  town 
Asch,  which  at  one  time  had  a  romantic  mean- 
ing for  Schumann.  Thus,  by  the  German 
nomenclature,  Asch  would  be  A,  Es  (Efe),  C, 


A  splendid  example  of  this  sort  of  musical 
punning  are  the  inspiring  fugues  on  the  name 
Bach.  Sometimes  this  seems  a  mere  unimpor- 
tant amusement;  at  others  it  betrays  an  un- 
doubted sense  of  symbolism.  Another  view, 
255 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

which  at  once  answers  two  separate  needs  of 
Schumann's  nature,  is  that,  however  unimportant 
the  themes  are  in  themselves,  the  stress  is  laid 
on  their  treatment.  In  other  words,  no  matter 
what  your  theme,  you  can  talk  about  it  musi- 
cally. Thus  we  can  talk  about  Bach  and 
others  in  music.  It  must  be  admitted,  of 
course,  that  there  is  here  too  little  importance 
of  its  own  beauty  allowed  to  the  theme.  Yet 
all  the  more  genius  and  power  of  sequential 
thought  is  required  in  this  discussion.  And 
this  element  of  discussion,  extended  greatly 
even  beyond  Beethoven,  explored  vast  fields  in 
the  power  of  music  for  more  definite  signifi- 
cance. It  is  best  to  regard  all  this  writing  as 
experimental  in  the  possibilities  of  themal  de- 
velopment. 

Of  much  higher  dignity  are  those  poems 
of  musical  characterization  like  the  Children's 
Scenes  and  the  Forest  Scenes,  where  he  con- 
jures up  in  simplest  touches  the  quintessence, 
not  of  the  outward  situation  or  event,  but  of 
the  peculiar  feeling  which  enshrouds  them. 
The  superficial  critic,  who  speaks  too  quickly, 
says,  "  Of  what  use  are  the  titles,  if  the  music 
tells  the  story?"  He  cannot  forget  that  the 
256 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

mere  conjecture  of  the  particular  title  in  the 
poet's  mind  is  of  no  gain.  The  music  is  not  a 
picture  of  this  and  of  nothing  else.  There  is  a 
feeling  here  uttered  which  is  certainly  associated 
with  this  situation,  in  however  many  others  it 
may  also  reside.  The  feeling  is  all  we  care  for. 
Rather  pertinent  here  is  Beethoven's  experience 
in  the  Pastoral  Symphony.  It  is  well  known 
how  at  first  he  directed  the  reader  to  find  the 
situations  for  himself.  But  on  completion,  he 
gave  precise  labels  everywhere,  and  added, 
"  Rather  an  expression  of  feeling  than  a  pic- 
ture." The  poet  is  bound  to  help  us  to  this 
enjoyment  by  telling  us  all  he  knows ;  it  is  not 
a  guessing  match.  In  agreement  with  this  is 
Schumann's  own  admission  that  he  always 
wrote  the  title  after  composition.  He  never 
set  out  deliberately  to  translate  a  certain  sub- 
ject into  tonalr  language.  It  was  undoubtedly 
in  this  mood  and  with  this  equipment  that 
Schumann  wrote  his  songs,  which,  independent 
of  their  wealth  of  beauty  and  depth  of  senti- 
ment, came  to  the  world  as  absolutely  new  con- 
ceptions of  the  power  of  music  to  mirror  the 
particular  emotional  significance  of  the  words. 
But  these  are  relatively  the  less  important 

17  257 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

elements  of  Schumann's  art,  though  to  discuss 
them  thus  categorically  is  to  ignore  the  insepa- 
rable totality  with  which  they  express  his  genius. 
So  when  we  have  spoken  of  his  sense  of  sequence 
in  music,  we  have  said  but  little  unless  we  take 
into  account  some  of  the  strongest  influences 
of  his  youth.  In  the  fore  of  these  must  be 
placed  the  great  German  prose-poet,  Jean  Paul 
Richter.  So  direct  and  overwhelming  was  his 
power  over  Schumann's  thought,  that  one 
might  almost  say,  Who  does  not  know  Jean 
Paul,  does  not  know  Schumann.  Undoubtedly, 
reading  the  former  throws  the  brightest  light 
upon  the  intent  of  the  latter. 

In  Jean  Paul  we  feel  the  sole  prominence  of 
pure  sentiment,  the  ruthless,  almost  cynical 
subordination  of  everything  material ;  the  ex- 
travagant contempt  of  facts,  of  objective  per- 
sonalities, of  events,  of  plot,  in  riotous  revel  of 
unalloyed  feeling.  Then  we  remember  the 
sudden  succession  of  humor  and  pathos,  all 
part  of  this  plan  of  revolt  from  the  tyranny  of 
concrete  externals ;  and,  too,  we  know  that 
with  all  this  whim  of  sudden  change  there  is 
not  only  no  lack  of  connection,  on  the  con- 
trary, there  is  in  the  very  contrast  o/  emotions 
258 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

and  in  tfie  freedom  from  hostile  realities  of  out- 
ward sense,  the  closest  continuity,  one  unbroken 
fibre  of  emotional  experience. 

It  seems  as  if  Schumann  was  almost  con- 
scious of  his  mission  as  the  Jean  Paul  of  music. 
The  nature  of  his  art  left  him  free  from  the 
intrusion  of  the  world  of  concrete  sense.  This 
influence  of  Jean  Paul's  strikingly  reinforced 
Schumann's  other  tendency  towards  musical 
meaning  and  sequence.  It  gave  him  a  peculiar 
power  of  consecutive  musical  thought,  a  sense 
of  development  quite  beyond  that  of  Beethoven, 
although  in  his  path.  The  theme  being  relegated 
to  mere  text,  all  vital  stress  was  laid  on  the 
following  out  of  the  emotional  thread  wherever 
it  may  lead.  Wedded  to  this  power  was  an 
intensity  of  abandon  to  an  absolute  subjective 
emotion  (utterly  reckless  of  a  conventional 
world),  which  bears  most  indubitably  the 
stamp  of  sincerity  beyond  even  the  faintest 
suspicion  of  conscious  attempt  to  please.  Thus 
lost  in  the  concentration  of  his  emotion,  he 
gives  its  essence,  turning  music  away  from  its 
supposed  vocation  of  mere  beauty  to  the  most 
powerful  utterance  of  high  feeling,  becoming 
almost  definite  by  this  very  intensity. 
259 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  most  direct  examples  here  are  the 
Novelettes,  which  are  not  only  greatest  among 
Schumann's  works,  but  of  the  greatest  of  all 
piano  literature.  By  this  wonderful  threading 
of  the  theme,  and  by  these  magic  contrasts  of 
feeling,  there  is  the  clearest  sequence  of  narrative, 
so  that  you  can  almost  read  off  the  story.  At 
any  rate  you  have  the  same  essential  gain, — all 
but  the  dry,  dead  weight  of  facts  and  names. 
For  the  very  pleasure  of  reading  a  story,  I 
should  turn  as  eagerly  to  Schumann's  Novel- 
ettes as  to  any  prose-writing.  And  then  it  is 
always  equally  fresh,  with  ever  new  changes  of 
unimportant  details.  It  is  not  at  all  the  mere 
tempest  of  on-rushing  drive  in  one  theme ;  the 
best  is  always  some  sudden  exquisite  phase  of 
new  tender  feeling,  that  by  its  contrast  shows 
the  closest  continuity.  There  is  probably  no 
work  in  all  the  literature  of  music  so  aptly 
named  as  Schumann's  Novelettes. 

The  only  other  influence  to  be  compared 
with  that  of  Jean  Paul's  was  one  within  the 
domain  of  his  own  art.  To  be  sure,  there 
can  be  traced  in  Schumann's  works  more  or 
less  pervading  traces  of  several  musical  person- 
alities. Schubert  is  very  distinct  in  the  intimate 
260 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

touches,  the  naivete  of  melodic  flow,  the  sur- 
prises of  modulation.  But  it  seems  that  one 
other  master  affected  not  merely  Schumann's 
style,  but,  more  deeply,  his  mode  of  musical 
thought.  And  with  him  we  come  to  what  bids 
fair  to  be  a  perennial  mystery  in  musical  litera- 
ture. The  posthumous  career  of  Bach's  in- 
fluence is  not  only  striking  as  a  type  of  the 
final  triumph  in  art  of  the  good,  by  its  inherent 
power;  it  must  appeal  to  us,  alone  from  its 
dramatic  pathos.  To  our  modern  democracy, 
it  seems  that  all  salvation  for  the  artist,  all  true 
and  final  judgment  must  ultimately  lie  with 
that  awful  tribunal,  the  people,  quite  without 
regard  to  its  capacity,  not  of  judging,  but 
merely  of  understanding.  Thus  a  critic  in  a 
recent  book  *  actually  advises  the  musician  to 
bow  to  the  triumph  of  the  composer  who  has 
conquered  "his  quarter  of  the  globe,"  swallow- 
ing all  convictions  of  right.  Thus  it  does 
seem  that  the  greatest  danger  to  music  comes 
from  its  friends,  who  yield  a  certain  sacred  trust. 
With  them  the  old  ideal  of  truth,  of  right  in 
itself,  has  absolutely  ceased  to  inhabit  the  uni- 


*  Apthorp's  "  Musicians  and  Music-Lovers." 
261 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

verse.     The  only  result  can  be  a  mad,  vulgar 
scramble  for  the  nod  of  the  mob. 

Bach  stands  as  the  eternal  denial  of  all  this. 
When  the  rest  of  the  world  was  revelling  in 
the  delights  of  the  new  toy,  opera,  which  all 
but  upset  the  grave  beauty  of  church  music, 
which  drove  out  the  ideal  of  high  art,  and  left 
sensuous  melody  the  sole  usurper,  this  master 
quietly  wrote  his  German  oratorios,  his  organ 
music,  and  other  instrumental  forms  in  the 
spirit  of  the  high  art  of  strict  discipline,  all 
within  the  limits  of  a  German  province,  harassed 
by  the  worries  of  an  ill-paid  organist.  The 
true  value  of  Bach  is  still  enigmatic.  His 
is,  strangely,  a  rising  influence,  which  cannot 
even  now  be  justly  gauged.  There  seems  to  be 
no  doubt  that  in  his  peculiar  mastery  of  the  art 
he  is  not  only  highest  of  all,  but  he  is  almost 
incredible  in  the  achieved  power  of  his  equip- 
ment. But,  to  return  to  the  man,  to  show  the 
absolute  isolation  of  the  artist  from  the  applaud- 
ing crowd,  he  wrote  on  to  a  good  old  age  in  his 
modest  rut  of  outer  life,  with  a  family  of  twenty 
children  forming  probably  the  main  nucleus  of 
his  following,  and  then  died  and  was  forgotten. 
Let  the  modern  world  of  sudden  furore,  of  mad 
262 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

popular  judgment,  think  how  long  was  the  sleep 
of  his  spirit.  Just  one  hundred  years  after  the 
first  performance  of  his  great  work,  "  The  Pas- 
sion according  to  St.  Matthew,"  it  was  unearthed 
and  brought  to  light  and  living  sound  by  Men- 
delssohn. And  ever  since,  Bach's  power  has 
been  steadily  waxing, — only  over  the  minds  of 
musicians  and  masters,  never  with  the  people 
directly, — growing  absolutely  by  the  sole  force 
of  its  inherent  truth  and  nobility.  It  cannot 
down,  though  it  can  never,  in  its  nature,  be 
popular.  It  is  almost  like  a  decalogue  in  art. 
And  so,  be  it  fate,  or,  better,  the  force  of  truth 
direct,  there  is  preserved  the  work  of  this  giant 
hero,  who  single-handed  upheld  the  traditions 
of  highest  art  in  the  time  of  its  greatest  peril. 

It  seems  inevitable  that  this  influence  of 
Bach's  is  destined  to  be  borne  indirectly  through 
other  masters,  like  some  high  truth  of  Egyptian 
priesthood.  We  can  see  some  reason  for  this. 
The  forms  of  Bach's  writing  are,  save  one,  not 
adapted  to  popular  hearing  on  any  great  scale. 
Even  in  Germany,  it  is  probably  only  his  ora- 
torios, sung  in  church,  that  are  known  directly 
by  the  people.  And  it  seems  that  there  is  some 

limitation  here  in  Bach's  genius  itself,  although 
263 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

it  is  almost  profane  to  attempt  individual  judg- 
ment. But  by  the  nature  of  the  spirit  of  religious 
mystery  and  man's  self-effaced  devotion  that 
Bach  uttered,  he  was  driven  rather  to  an  altitude 
of  deep,  high  meditation  than  of  free  individual 
expression.  So  in  his  writings,  almost  paradoxi- 
cally, the  actual  total  effect  of  separate  works 
seems  less  important  than  the  quality  of  his 
musical  thought.  And  therefore  Bach  has  ever 
needed  a  mediator  for  his  final  assertion  ;  a  new 
master  who  will  reconcile  the  profound  vein  of 
his  thought  with  modern  ideas  of  art  forms. 
But  the  great  compensation,  we  might  say,  is 
that,  while  the  horizon  of  all  others  seems 
limited,  the  latent  power  of  Bach  seems  in  an 
unending  increase. 

The  paradox  of  Bach's  art  is  a  most  tempt- 
ing one ;  but  its  final  pursuit  does  not  belong 
here.  We  remember  how,  in  the  first  emer- 
gence of  music  from  the  school-days  in  the 
cloister,  there  was  a  period  of  utter  abandon 
from  meditation  to  exuberant  revel  of  individual 
feeling.  Bach's  art  came  before  all  this.  Later, 
the  crowning  masters  of  the  secular  epoch  sought 
a  return  to  the  profundity  of  the  early  cloister 

days.     But  even  in  Beethoven  this  was  never 
264 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

quite  attained.  There  is  always  a  great  differ- 
ence between  the  analytic  meditation  (what 
musicians  call  counterpoint)  of  Beethoven  and 
of  Bach.  There  is  lacking  a  certain  psycho- 
logical, introspective  quality.  After  all,  with  all 
the  later  complexity  of  Beethoven,  his  whole 
art  is  on  a  different  basis  from  that  of  Bach. 
It  is  originally  secular,  lyric,  monomelodic ; 
only  later  did  it  turn  towards  polyphony.  Bach 
was  meditative  to  the  core. 

While  Mendelssohn  brought  Bach's  works 
to  the  surface,  Schumann  was  the  great  master 
who  absorbed  his  spirit  and  thought.  Almost 
a  man,  Schumann  turned  to  Bach  as  the  highest 
artistic  oracle.  This  influence  throws  a  double 
light  on  each  master.  It  makes  Bach  clearer 
and  Schumann.  In  both  is  the  strong,  reflec- 
tive hue  of  thought,  and  the  polyphonic  mode 
of  expression.  In  Schumann's  symphony  we 
seem  almost  to  see  how  Bach  would  have  gone 
about  it.  It  might  be  said  that  as  Bach  is  the 
Religious  Meditator,  Schumann  is  the  Romantic 
Psychologist.  Just  one  example,  out  of  all 
this  mass  of  theoretic  speculation,  will  at  once 
give  proof  and  throw  light.  It  is  a  lightest 
touch,  but  I  believe  it  is  typical.  In  one  of  the 
265 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Forest  Scenes,  "  Lonely  Flowers,"  the  whole 
picture  is  the  literal  intertwining  of  two  slight 
graceful  themes.  Throughout  there  is  hardly 
a  note  that  is  not  of  individual  voice,  that  is 
not  what  the  wise  men  call  polyphonic.  It  is 
the  pure  Bach  art  applied,  almost  idealized,  in 
secular  poetry. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  see  how  this  influence 
reinforced  a  native  trait  of  Schumann,  of  intro- 
spection that  was  sometimes  morbid.  But 
again  we  must  see  how  it  affected  merely  the 
process  of  thought,  not  the  outward  shape  of 
art  work.  Mendelssohn  followed  Bach  in  the 
external  outline.  It  could  not  be  expected  of 
Schumann.  He  wrote  no  oratorio,  no  organ 
sonata.  And  we  are  thus  brought  to  the  final 
and  the  paramount  view  of  Schumann's  art. 

Too  much  stress  cannot  be  laid  upon  the 
entire  difference  of  form  as  an  abstract  con- 
ception, as  an  element  of  art,  like  melody  or 
harmony,  and  forms  as  mere  conventional 
examples  of  the  other.  No  ideas  are  so  relent- 
lessly confused.  The  commonest  answer  to  the 
charge  that  a  musician  lacks  the  power  of  form 
is  to  decry  traditional  types  like  the  sonata  or 
the  symphony.  You  might  as  well  confine  the 
266 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

idea  of  dress  to  the  pantaloons.  It  is  utterly 
forgotten  that  form  is  a  quality  of  creative 
thought,  not  a  prescribed  law.  Musicians  other- 
wise of  the  soundest  will  constantly  tell  students 
that  the  recipe  of  composition  consists  simply 
in  the  filling  of  the  classic  moulds  with  original 
themes, — nothing  more.  The  fact  is  that  true 
form  is  absent  exactly  as  this  prescriptive  form 
is  present.  The  sonata  and  the  symphony  can 
live  on  only  as  long  as  poets  feel  their  exigence 
for  their  thought ;  they  will  die  as  soon  as  they 
are  obey:d  as  mere  authority. 

Schumann  in  the  respect  of  form  has  been 
much  misunderstood.  It  was  in  the  nature  of 
the  poetry  of  his  time  to  forsake  temporarily 
(for  its  own  sake)  the  great  models  of  the 
classics.  In  the  German  prose  literature  of  the 
day  is  seen  the  chaotic  impulse,  delighting  in 
disorder,  in  overthrowing  the  old,  in  chasing 
madly  after  some  butterfly  sentiment,  and  yet, 
in  all  the  loose  mass  of  disconnected  episodes, 
having  a  very  decided  continuous  thread.  Only 
the  thread  is  not  external,  of  story  or  plot ;  it 
is  a  unity  of  feeling  in  one  subjective  personality 
through  contrasting  situations.  This  sort  of 

book  was  the  prototype  of  Schumann's  Humor* 

267 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

eske  and  Kreislcriana,  where  apparently  all  idea 
of  form  is  abandoned ;  one  piece  hardly  ends 
when  an  utterly  irrelevant  one  begins.  But  our 
highest  delight  is  to  find  the  subtle  connection 
which  pervades  the  whole.  And  thus,  with  all 
his  independence  of  earlier  models,  perhaps  by 
reason  of  it,  Schumann  seems  strongest  in  this 
very  power  of  weaving  subtly  initial  themes  to 
a  climax  which  crowns  the  work  with  its  own 
justification  and  true  ultimate  meaning. 

As  to  Schumann's  symphonies,  it  must  seem 
at  first  thought  that  all  these  elements  and 
early  influences  promise  little.  The  art  and 
thought  of  Bach  were  remote,  and  equally  the 
chaotic  method  of  dominant  literature. 

It  must  be  seen,  too,  that  the  universal  ten- 
dency of  all  musical  thought  in  the  nineteenth 
century  was  special.  In  Beethoven  was  the 
colossal  climax.  In  Schubert  came  the  national 
reaction  and  assertion.  Berlioz  went  far  beyond 
the  true  limits  of  graphic  depiction.  Wagner 
cannot  escape  his  Teutonic  flavor.  Mendels- 
sohn seemed  to  find  most  inspiration  in  local 
romance, — at  any  rate  in  the  suggestion  of 
special  subjects. 

Schumann  seems  to  us  the  greatest  poet  of 
268 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  time ;  but  he  was  representative  of  its 
spirit.  And  so  there  is  in  him,  too,  as  com- 
pared with  the  classic  height,  a  descent  into 
narrower  lines  of  feeling.  He  is  under  the 
domination  of  ideals  and  thought  of  contem- 
porary German  poetry,  pervaded  with  the  spirit 
of  German  legend.  Under  all  these  poets  of 
the  century,  one  theme  has  become  predominant 
beyond  its  due,  has  had  too  much  conscious 
stress.  Schumann's  treatment,  to  be  sure,  has 
been  of  the  highest  in  tone, — far  higher  than 
Wagner's.  But  in  all,  the  field  is  too  narrow, 
too  full  of  special  subjects  ;  there  is  no  approach 
to  the  noble  height  of  Beethoven's  cosmic, 
universal  thought. 

The  symphony,  as  the  highest  known  mode 
of  utterance  in  music,  is  always  greatest  with 
the  widest  scope.  Indeed,  it  might  be  said,  in 
a  very  strict  humor,  that  the  true  symphony 
can  have  no  limitation  whatever  of  special  sub- 
ject, whether  expressed  or  implied.  We  are 
thus  dangerously  near  a  prejudiced  view  of 
Schumann's  symphonies.  It  is  better  to  take 
our  usual  course,  forming  our  opinion  in  the 
very  reading  of  the  work. 


269 


IX 

SCHUMANN  (CONTINUED) 

WITH  no  master  is  it  more  urgent  that  we 
approach  with  absolute  honesty,  free  from  pre- 
jndgment,  above  all  from  the  presumption  that 
his  symphonies  are  masterpieces.  We  may 
hope,  but  we  must  fear  for  symphonies  in  a 
Romantic  period. 

The  second  symphony  has  no  title  or  even 
association.  We  are  not  inclined  in  any  direc- 
tion. It  begins  not  unlike  the  characteristic 
prelude  of  Beethoven  and  Schubert,  which  we 
have  often  noticed.  With  them  it  was  a  mystic 
vein.  Now,  Schumann  is  of  all  poets  in  verse 
or  tone  most  lost  in  his  peculiar  subjectivity. 
He  does  not  paint  objects  (though  he  will  give 
with  subtle  power  the  true  sentiment  suggested 
in  outward  situations),  and  he  is  not  at  all 
philosophical.  It  would  be  a  great  gain  to  dis- 
cern this  distinction  between  the  element  of 
mystic  philosophy  in  music  with  a  certain  uni- 
versal scope,  and  what  might  be  called  the 
270 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

meditative,  the  psychological,  the  purely  intro- 
spective. Bach  and  Schumann  were  the  latter. 
Bach  was  tied  fast  to  the  moorings  of  his  creed. 
He  could  not  roam  and  grope  freely  for  the 
lowest  foundations.  Schumann's  temper  was 
for  romantic  meditation,  but  his  feeling  was 
intensely  and  passionately  special.  For  him  the 
wealth  of  emotion  in  the  individual  man  was 
too  great  to  stray  into  the  bleaker  regions  of 
general  impersonal  speculation.  And  yet  Schu- 
mann was  neither  materialist  nor  sentimentalist. 
He  might,  by  some,  be  called  a  link  between 
the  high,  impersonal  tone  of  his  great  predeces- 
sors and  the  sentimentalism  of  his  day  and  the 
later  materialism.  But  that  is  only  because  he 
himself  held  the  true  balance.  He  had  the 
right  mean ;  he  did  not  run  into  riotous,  irre- 
sponsible hedonism.  In  the  vehemdnce  of  his 
sentiment  he  held  to  the  lode-star  of  highest 
ethical  ideals'.  He  reached,  of  all  German 
poets,  the  highest  conception  of  woman.  With 
the  passionate  intensity  of  his  feeling,  he  had 
the  leaven  of  idealism,  a  sense  of  responsibil- 
ity and  of  profundity.  If  he  had  lived  into  a 
vigorous  middle  age,  it  seems  that  he  would 
probably  have  matured  into  the  highest  poetic 
271 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

quality.  Unfortunately,  the  very  intensity  of 
his  early  romanticism,  his  absorption  in  indi- 
vidual emotion,  made  irreparable  havoc  on  his 
mental  powers. 

In  his  symphonies  we  have  glimpses,  and 
more,  of  the  height  to  which  he  was  tending. 
Ever  deeper  his  sympathies  were  growing,  ever 
wider  his  horizon ;  and  there  is  no  loss  of  in- 
tensity of  feeling.  Yet  his  symphonies  seem  to 
remain  still  in  the  field  of  special  and  individual 
interest ;  they  are  not  what  we  have  so  often 
praised  in  Beethoven  and  sometimes  ia  others : 
they  are  not  cosmic.  It  is  not  simply  that  the 
third  symphony  is,  in  truth  and  in  title,  a  poem 
of  the  Rhine.  We  are  thinking  of  the  music 
itself. 

Here,  in  the  second  symphony,  begins  the 
legendary  tone  in  the  horns,  with  quiet,  prime- 

Sostenuto  assai. 
BRASS  (with  obligate  Violins). 


272 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


val  simplicity,  while  the  violins  add  an  accom- 
panying serene  meditation.  It  is  distinctly 
Teutonic.  It  has  not  the  universality  of 
the  Beethoven  Fifth,  or  even  of  Schubert's 
C  Major. 

Gradually  others  join.  The  discussion  grows 
in  a  more  human,  a  more  personal  vein.  It 
leads  somewhere.  Yet,  all  through,  the  deep- 
ened legend  resounds.  Between  its  verses  the 
wind  sings  quite  naturally  and  naively : 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


— p-^^— 


=F= 


* 


But  as  soon  as  the  horns  return,  the  strings 
fall  again  into  their  revery.  Now  with  gentle, 
not  sudden  awakening,  the  strings  striking  into 


«1J 


3* 


Trent. 


Jp  espr 


-^ 


274 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

a  quivering  hum,  a  new  strain  is  heard  from 
discoursing  woodwind,  with  a  kind  of  heavily 
springing  gait,  after  the  musing  walk  of  the 
Sostenuto. 

The  light  answer : 


grows  brighter,  more  insistent  and  vehement, 
but  disappears  when  the  legend  of  the  horns 
returns.  But  the  other  phrase,  equally  eccentric 
though  more  serious,  follows  along : 


through  a  full  and  broad  conclusion  and 
a  free,  rhetorical  flourish  of  violins,  into  the 
Allegro,  where  the  text  is  the  little  answering 
theme  that  before  piped  its  timid  attempts  and 
now  sings  a  steady  chant  of  joy,  with  that 
power  for  endless  sequence  and  flow,  which 
we  have  seen  lurking  in  Schumann  and  in  his 
themes  : 

275 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Allfgro  ma  non  troppo. 
STRINGS  (doubled  in  unison  and  upper  octave  by  Wood). 


Eventually  a  climax  is  reached  in  this  jolly, 
skipping  song,  with  some  change  of  locality ; 
and  now,  for  the  rest  of  the  preliminary  state- 
ment of  melodic  subjects,  there  is  a  quiet  talk, 
with  much  regularity  of  question  and  answer, 
on  a  theme  that  is  not  too  high  pitched,  that 
contrasts  pleasantly  with  the  first  in  the  even 
glide  of  its  motion  : 


276 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Doubled  above  and  below. 


WOOD  (reinforced  by  tremolo  strings). 


Doubled  below. 


All  this  chatting  is  wound  up  by  (what 
seems  really  best  of  all)  a  broad,  authoritative 
conclusion,  in  simple  terms  (see  page  278), 
presently  confirmed  below  in  echoing  basses. 
A  final  verse  of  the  theme  closes  the  statement. 

Discussion  is  natural  to  Schumann.  But 
instead  of  the  dramatic,  boisterous  fray  of  many 
voices  fighting  out  their  conclusion  of  peace 
and  concord,  it  is  a  meditation,  a  curious  inter- 
nal reflection.  The  melodic  voices  seem  like 
277 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


WOODWIND  AND  STRINGS. 


"St 


impersonal  shades  rather  than  the  living  figures 
which  laugh  and  talk  in  the  earlier  masters. 
Poetical  it  is  in  the  highest  degree.  But  it  is 
less  easily  perceived  as  a  graphic  symbolism  of 
mundane,  every-day  persons  and  doings.  It  is 
more  a  dreamy  haze  of  imaginings,  which  has 
its  artistic  place  and  need  as  much  as  any  other 
mood ;  but  it  is  perhaps  better  adapted  to  the 
278 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

solitary  handling  of  a  single  instrument  than  to 
the  orchestral  world  of  sounds. 

Here  the  united  strings  make  repeated 
descent  of  three  steps,  while  above  in  the 
woodwind  the  first  Allegro  is  still  keeping  us 
in  good  cheer  with  a  little  answering  phrase 
of  violins : 


WOODWIND. 


Now  the  maze  of  these  three  phrases  con- 
tinues.    A  duet  in  the  violins  is  see-sawing : 

279 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


while  the  flutes  are  still  piping  at  the  skipping 
song,  and  the  brass,  aided  by  fagots  and  oboes, 
are  ever  descending  into  lower  and  lower 
depths,  and  new  subterranean  scenes.  When 
the  violins  cross  each  other's  path,  there  is  a 
strange  pinch,  a  narrow  escape  from  quarrel, 
which  keeps  us  in  pleasantly  increasing  sus- 
pense. Soon  the  second  Allegro  theme  is  the 
bone  of  contention  between  mixed  parties  of 
wood  and  strings.  Still,  the  anxious  suspense, 
soothed  a  little  by  a  new  thought : 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

echoed  above  at  each  utterance,  then  advancing 
again  with  assenting  voices : 

WOODWIND. 


J   4 


and  now  through  a  strain  of  clearer  serenity 


to  higher  and  still  more  delicate  refrains  of  the 
anxious  phrase : 

^~  ± 


wandering  on  through  echoing  stretches,  inter- 
rupted by  strains  of  the  old  maze  of  descending 
basses  and  answering  strings.  Always  there  is 
this  balance  between  joy  and  pain,  this  dulcet 
anxiety  ;  throughout,  of  course,  the  joyful  dance 
of  the  first  melody  is  absent.  Now  the  mood 
grows  firmer,  more  confident,  gradually  lifting 
281 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

out  of  the  depths;  then,  with  more  nervous 
step,  rising  more  and  more  impetuously,  a  new 
energy  in  the  answering  phrase  of  the  strings 
(which  has  been  hitherto  vaguely  wandering  in 
and  out) : 

STRINGS  (sustained  in  unison  and  above  by  Wind). 


And  so,  soaring  into  gladder  heights,  we 
reach  at  last  the  swing  of  the  first  Allegro 
melody,  but  merely  the  dancing  movement. 
It  is  again  the  trio  of  voices  which  began  the 
discussion,  and  the  sky  is  still  o'ercast  with 
minor  clouds.  When  we  thought  we  were  out 
282 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


of  the  wilds,  back  we  must  go  to  the  dim, 
sweetly-sad  uncertainty,  until  we  despair  of 
reaching  the  old  pleasant  places  before  dark. 
In  gliding  strings,  while  the  woodwind  above  is 
lightly  piping  along,  is  that  earlier  strain  of 
anxious  soothing. 

But  at  the  end  of  the  climax,  after  a  few 
departing  wails,  we  are  at  last  gambolling  again 
in  our  sunny  meadows  to  the  tune  of  the  old 
dancing  song.  It  is  all  as  at  first,  only  noisier 
and  more  spirited.  But  when  the  melodies  have 
been  sung  again,  and  the  strings  descend  as  in 
the  beginning  of  the  discussion,  the  wood, 
instead  of  replying  with  the  skipping  phrase, 
answer  with  equally  steady,  gliding  sweep,  in 
contained  serenity : 

WOOD. 


And  so  through  one  more  descent,  when  the 
283 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

ascent  begins  con  fuoco  with  nervous  energy  of 
phrase : 

Con  fuoco.  STRINGS  (reinforced  by  Woodwind). 


and  with  extended  rehearsing  of  other  earlier 
phrases  and  cadences,  all  dominated  by  the  in- 
sistence of  the  principal  melody,  with  springing 
gait. 

Scherzo. 

We  are  not  pretending  to  set  forth  a  plant 
Frankly,  we  have  not  discovered  it.     We  pre- 
fer to  search  for  it  in  company  with  the  reader. 
284 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Special  connection  with  the  Scherzo  is  not 
apparent, — -mere  general  sympathy  of  mood. 
By  itself,  it  is  one  of  the  most  deliciously 
melodious,  magically  rhythmical  bits  of  music. 
But  in  the  symphony,  separate  charm  is  almost 
irrelevant, — is  far  behind  germane  pertinence. 

The  theme  is  a  type  of  one  of  Schumann's 
diverse  humors,  utterly  opposite  to  his  more 
common  sombre  sternness.  And  it  has  the 
quality,  rare  in  extended  subjects,  of  great 
versatility  for  discussion.  The  melody,  seem- 

Allegro  -vivace. 
STRINGS  (the  chords  doubled  in  lower  Woodwind). 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


ingly  without  thought  of  a  necessary  end, 
bounds  along  through  scene  after  scene.  A 
little  later  the  wood,  which  have  been  chattering 
along,  make  gay  retort  to  the  first  phrase  of 
violins : 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  dialogue  continues  in  varying  pitch.  In 
the  midst  of  it  comes  a  most  delicate  bit  of 
play,  at  hide  and  seek,  between  strings  and 


STRINGS. 


wind.  Then  both  go  tripping  together  back 
to  the  original  dance,  whence  all  is  repeated. 
Here  the  swing  of  the  first  melody  has  an 
increased  vigor,  almost  the  swoop  of  wind. 

After  a  friendly  touch  at  the  close,  the  first 
Trio  is  contrasted  in  a  confidential,  informal, 
intimate  way,  peculiarly  Schumann's,  breaking 
TRIO  I. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


formal  rhythm.  Though  quietly  playful,  it  is 
reflective  compared  with  the  bubbling  Scherzo. 
All  in  graceful  swing,  the  woodwind  sing 
their  song  laughingly ;  the  strings  answer  more 
seriously.  The  wood  continue  frivolous ;  the 
strings  now  discourse  freely  without  much  atten- 
tion to  the  mischievous  wood,  humming  away 
without  constraint  of  period,  as  if  to  themselves, 
reiterating,  lengthening  out  the  phrases  at  sweet 
will  into  a  sincere,  friendly  conclusion,  broken 
into  by  the  impish  woodwind,  when  the  melody 
is  repeated.  And  now  the  strings  are  quickly 
infected  with  the  fun  ;  the  wood  actually  settle 
down  to  a  sober  song : 

Higher  octaves. 


WOOWIND  AND  BRASS. 


Bass  doubled  below. 
288 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Then,  after  returning  to  the  earlier  Tr-io,  they 
gradually  are  drawn  again  into  the  whirl  of  the 
Scherzo.  But  the  Trio  was  evidently  not  enough 
of  a  brown  study.  Schumann  must  have  his 
recoil  from  hilarity, — must  retreat  into  his  shell 
for  a  good  hour  by  himself.  In  the  second 
Trio,  after  the  merriment  of  the  Scherzo  has 
faded  away,  we  leave  dancing  and  shouting  and 
settle  into  a  quiet  current  of  bitter-sweet  dream- 
ing. There  is  no  glad  rhythm,  no  sparkling 
tune,  but  a  continuous  song,  charged  with 
mingled  longing  and  content : 

TRIO  II.  STRINGS. 


Sass  8va  lower,. 


The  revery  deepens  when  the  melody  subtly 
steals  in  in  the  basses,  before  the  oboes  have 
finished,  and  similarly  the  flutes  break  in  before 
the  latter  end.  Soon  the  dreamy  plot  thickens, 
with  manifold  play  of  initial  phrases.  Later 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  full  song  returns  with  complete  swing. 
Then,  after  repeated  timid  attempts,  the  jolly 
Scherzo  steals  in  and  soon  spreads  its  cheer  all 
about,  ending  in  a  romp. 

The  Adagio  is  the  real  lyric  point  of  the 
symphony.  Like  the  Scherzo,  in  its  way  it  is 
an  inspiration  of  the  highest  beauty.  And 
with  the  Scherzo  the  relation  of  contrast  en- 
hances its  meaning.  If  it  were  not  for  the 
stern  standard  we  have  set,  we  could  rejoice 
with  glad  assurance  in  one  of  the  greatest  of 
all  symphonies.  But  we  cannot  lose  sight  of 
the  one  highest  requisite, — the  dominance  of 
one  feeling  throughout ;  and  by  this  standard 
we  must  measure. 

It  is  not  simply  in  the  majestic,  simple  grace 
and  fervid  pathos  of  the  melody,  it  is  quite  as 


Adagio  espressivo. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


much  the  ingenuous  charm  with  which  a  new 
voice  ever  slips  in  with  the  subject,  before  we 
are  prepared,  without  any  fuss  or  ceremony  of 
introduction, — like  members  of  a  family  group 
stealing  in  around  the  hearth  one  by  one ;  and 
before  you  know  it,  all  are  gathered,  cosily 
talking.  At  the  end  of  a  verse  of  the  great 
melody,  the  wood  and  horns  have  a  simple 
introduction  with  the  strings  in  a  discussion  on 
a  phrase  that  seems  insignificant,  but  breaks  out 
into  a  most  moving  cadence : 
291 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

STRINGS  (with  occasional  Woodwind). 


Then  on  the  first  two  bars  of  the  melody, 
rung  at  ever  higher  pitch  by  the  violins,  rises 
an  insistent  plaint  of  speaking  beauty,  end- 
ing at  last  serenely  in  a  (major)  key  of  con- 
tentment. Now  creeps  in  pure  meditation,  who 
must  have  her  moment.  Even  from  pathetic 
utterance  Schumann  must  retire  to  chew  the 
cud  of  quiet  reflection.  The  visible  cud  is  a 
fugal  theme  discussed  by  monkish  strings  in 
strict  impersonal  solemnity,  from  the  gloomy 
maze  of  which  the  expressive  woodwind  re- 
lieves us  by  unceremoniously  entering  with 
the  main  melody.  Again  the  discussion  of 
the  strings;  again  the  insistent  plaint;  and 
the  end,  in  profound  musing,  with  the  lowest 
strings  humming  bits  of  the  tune  again  and 
again. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

We  come  to  the  Finale.  Here,  if  anywhere, 
must  be  the  justification.  Let  us  pursue  our 
quietly  expectant  way.  We  have  had,  so  far, 
a  spirited  Allegro,  introduced  in  truly  naive 
musing,  broken  ever  by  legend-toned  horns ;  a 
sparkling  Scherzo,  with  its  shy  retreating  and 
periodic  reserve ;  and  an  Adagio  of  rarest 
beauty.  Here  is  at  first  a  mere  signalling 
strum  and  blast.  Then  what  seems  the  main 
melody,  queerly  starting  in  a  subordinate  key, 
sounds  with  all  the  band  but  drums  and  low 
brass,  all  in  Allegro  molto  vivace : 

WHOLE  ORCHESTRA  (save  Drums  and  Trombones). 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

.    .  4 


and   so,  long  in  continuous,  spirited   melody, 
bandying  about  one  phrase  : 


more  extended  : 


and  breaking  out  again  in  simple,  hearty  chorus, 
ever  adding  some  new  touch  of  quaint  variation  : 

.•///  but  Trombones,  with  higher  octaves. 


I      \ 


294 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Then  comes  in  the  strings  what  seems  almost 
pedantic  for  so  glad  a  song.  As  violas  and 
fagots  trip  leisurely  along,  the  violins  simply 
course  up  and  down  the  scale,  with  no  special 


significance,  continuing  in  mild  playfulness. 
Soon  horns  and  other  wind  join.  Now  is  the 
meaning  clear.  Through  the  network  of  run- 
ning strings  and  coursing  woodwind  sings  from 
the  depth  of  cellos  and  fagots,  reinforced  by 
violins  and  clarionets,  the  stately  melody  of  the 


OBOES  AND  HORNS  below. 


STRINGS. 


VIOLAS,  CLARIONETS,  CELLOS,  AND  FAGOTS. 
295 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Adagio,  with  serener  majesty,  and  a  little  less  of 
sadness,  in  long  notes,  making  a  basic  theme 
for  the  whole. 

All  is  on  a  great  scale  and  with  a  certain  re- 
serve. Once  the  legend  has  sounded,  it  does 
not  forthwith  sound  again,  but  lets  the  voluble 
strings  chatter  away  the  more  lightly  for  its 
absence.  But  it  is  always  gathering  for  a  new 
utterance.  And  so  it  returns,  enounced  in  a 
higher  scenic  region  ;  it  sings  more  frequently : 


Responsive  play  of  mixed  groups  of  Woodwind  and  Strings. 
Doubled  in  cxtavcs  iibove  and  bclovi. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Now  all    are   started    singing   fragments  in  a 
great  medley. 

The  pathos  is  all  gone,  but  not  the  depth  or 
majesty.  Finally,  as  half  the  instruments  are 
coursing  furiously,  the  others  sing  the  conclusive 
phrase  with  true  assured  finality : 

Strings  doubled  above  in  Woodwind. 
.1 


Strings  doubled  below. 

Thence  back  to  the  first  melody,  but  not  at 
all  with  formal  exactness.  For  after  the  refrain 
of  this  theme  comes  the  unmistakable  psycho- 

Harmony  in  the  Woodwind. 


Doubled  above  and  below. 


297 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


logical  moment  which  stamps  Schumann.  All 
sentiment  aside,  we  must  down  for  a  good  hard 
think  on  the  phrase  of  the  original  strum  of  the 
movement. 

The  collision  of  the  running  forces,  roughly 
jostling  by,  shows  the  argumentative  reflection, 
— tineas  multa  diu  jactans  ammo.  The  jar  of 
altercating  contradictions  is  undeniable.  We 
can  see  the  parties  getting  into  technicalities. 
Out  of  it  suddenly  is  a  more  placid,  but  more 

STRINGS  AND  CLARIONETS.  FLUTES  in  octave  above. 

RHYTHMICAL  marcato. 

HORNS  AND  FAGOTS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


absorbed  revery ;  eyes  turned  inward ;  a  rapt 
musing ;  no  resultant  feeling  as  yet ;  still  wan- 
dering and  wondering. 

The  strumming  run,  too,  adds  its  opposing 
course,  though,  to  be  sure,  the  other  voices, 
differing  before,  now  unite  against  the  intruder : 


STRINGS  (doubled  above  in  Woodwind). 

rf  I        ! 


Low  strings  doubled  below. 


And  presently  we  are  in  the  very  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  darkest  groping, — ominous  ; 


299 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

STRINGS  AND  CLARIONETS. 


ft 

*£_- 

-frff—  —  —  f 

.    -J    - 

^      —  —  ited  — 

^—  1 

p 

HORNS  AND 

FAGOTS. 

d  

^  r 

T^TT 

5 

3 

Strings  doubled  below. 
FLUTES  AND  OBOES  added  above. 


^g= 


r  r  r,  r  r 


* 


Soon  a  ray  of  exquisite  sunlight,  but  always 
the  constant,  slow  career  of  wondering  thought, 
— a  new,  sweet  responsiveness  between  high 
strings  and  low : 

STRINGS  (doubled  above  in  Clarionets). 


sf  STRINGS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


And  now,  at  last,  a  more  friendly,  home-like, 
reassuring  word : 


STRINGS   (with  sustaining  Clarionets). 


Answering  Wood-wind. 


J 


r  f  f  r  r 


r  r 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Then  we  fight  our  way  out  of  the  gloom  in 
triumphant  struggle,  crowned  by  the  song  in  big 
swinging  rhythm  of  the  Adagio  melody,  more 
soothing  than  ever,  spreading  its  soaring  chant, 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

with  answering  voice  far  down  in  smooth-toned 
bass,  in  peaceful  duo,  singing  away  with  no 
thought  of  end.  And  right  from  the  serene 
song  there  is  that  special,  intimate  touch  of 
none  but  Schumann. 

And  when  the  melody  begins  again,  descend- 
ing instead  of  ascending,  we  have  reached  the 
best  again,  the  purest  trust,  unshaken  because 
deepest  laid,  answered  above,  and  again  uttered 
writh  a  broadly  worded  conclusion,  maintained 
with  big,  still  pauses. 

And  here  is  a  phase  that  no  Beethoven  ever 
conceived ;  certainly,  never  in  the  heart  of  an 
Allegro.  It  is  the  poet  of  Romance,  the  Jean 
Paul  of  music,  of  unforeseen  surprises  of  mood  : 
and  yet,  in  the  most  abrupt  change,  you  never 
feel  the  lack  of  inner  essential  connection  and 
significance. 

It  is  somewhat  the  feeling  of  the  second 
Trio.  Absolutely  without  traditional  prescrip- 
tion of  form,  more  than  half-way  through,  the 
storm  of  the  Allegro  ceases,  and  an  entirely 
new  melody — outwardly! — begins,  charged 
with  that  deepening  feeling  which  has  so  strong 
a  resemblance  to  the  devotional.  We  might 
call  it  a  secular  chorale.  It  was  the  mood  in 
3<>3 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


which  Schumann  wrote  himself  "  Eusebius" ; 
and  it  follows  here  with  the  usual  fitting 
inconsequence  upon  the  heels  of  Florestan. 
Chorale-like  it  is  in  the  half-notes  of  the  wood- 


"fr/o      ~^> 


wind,  followed  by  strings  descending  in  hollow 
unison : 


r  r 


f)  dolce. 

and  then  the  idyllic  chorale  in  a  new  quarter  of 
the  wood.  It  is  strange  how  merely  external  is 
this  irrelevance.  In  reality,  it  is  felt  as  a  closest 
part  of  the  whole  texture.  You  are  perplexed 
with  a  haunting  sense  that  it  has  sung  before. 

For  a  moment  there  breaks  in  a  stirring  pulse 
from  an  earlier  verse ;  but  slowly  we  descend 
304 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

into  a  reflective  vein  on  the  chorale.  Still,  it  is 
not  the  psychological  moment  of  Schumann. 
That  is  a  conscious  mental  spinning ;  this  is 
mere  pensive,  sentient  dreaming,  free  of  alge- 
braic thought,  but  with  the  more  perfect  se- 
quence of  unwitting  logic,  running  on  as  if 
with  infinite  measure  of  verse : 

WOODWIND  AND  STRINGS. 


Then  as  the  run  of  strings  reappears,  the 
earthly  hymn  takes  on  a  new  spring,  and  we 
are  back  in  the  old  discussion  on  the  strumming 
phrase,  with  abrupt,  authoritative  ending  of  the 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

dispute  in  a  pause  that  sets  all  wondering,  ex- 
pectant that  Florestan  with  his  boisterous  train 
is  coming  to  say  the  final  word.  Instead,  the 
gentle,  pensive  Eusebius  once  again  enters.  He 
has  a  new  note  in  his  song,  a  turn  of  quaint 
assurance.  See  how  the  melody  now  descends, 
without  the  old  questioning : 


Again  the  strange  retort  in  timid  unison. 
Then  the  chorus  enter  with  firm,  conclusive 
strain,  still  strongly  charged  with  a  pious  spirit. 
At  the  end  of  one  of  the  final  refrains  of  the 
chorale,  before  we  have  discovered  it,  an  old 
figure  has  stolen  in  ;  the  primeval  legend  of 
horns  is  sounding  its  perennial  phrase,  as  though 
it  had  not  been  silent  all  along.  And  now 
another  old  memory  rises  from  the  musing  of 
the  earliest  beginning : 

306 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

WOODWIND  (doubled  above  and  below). 


'  Low  strings. 


Somehow  it  does  not  fit  ill  with  the  Eusebius 
melody.  And  now  see  how,  while  this  sings  in 
three-measured  rhythm,  the  legend  sounds  in 
the  brass  in  perfect  accord  of  independent 
rhythm,  the  old  one  of  four  paces.  While  the 
former  vanishes,  the  latter  continues,  with  slight 
intervals,  until  the  end,  and,  all  in  unconscious 
agreement,  the  Eusebius  melody  floats  above  in 
triumph ;  below  the  strings  are  still  striding  in 
the  strange  three-paced  rhythm. 

Then  in  the  last  great  verse,  a  big  phrase 
takes  command ;  it  reminds  us  a  little  of  the 
first  Allegro  in  its  eccentric  gait,  and  somehow 
suggests,  too,  the  song,  though  more  broadly, 
of  the  first  melody  of  the  last  movement.  Still, 
Eusebius  has  not  subsided ;  he  is  paramount  in 
the  great  throng.  Indeed,  he  has  the  very  last 
307 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

word  of  clear  song.  He  seems  to  broaden, 
almost  to  smile  a  gentle  blessing  at  the  end. 
But  the  big  melody  does,  indeed,  reconcile  the 
feeling  of  the  first  and  last  canto  of  our  epic. 

What  shall  we  say  to  it  all  ?  Surely  so  much 
beauty  can  only  come  from  sincerity.  The 
unity  is  here ;  we  must  bow  our  head.  It  is  a 
true,  a  great  symphony.  Yet  next  comes  the 
trying  question:  What  is  this  feeling  whose 
unity  is  proclaimed?  It  is  certainly  not  the 
clear  mood  of  the  great  Beethoven  poems  that 
we  found  words  for ;  not  of  the  earlier  Mozart ; 
not  of  the  later  Schubert.  It  is  less  definable 
than  all  these.  It  has  not  their  universality, 
their  bigness  of  conception.  It  is  in  romantic 
recoil  from  their  classic  cosmic  completeness. 
But  in  its  narrower  roaming  among  romantic 
dells,  bold  heights,  and  shaded  valleys,  it  makes 
a  smaller,  but  hardly  less  perfect  circle  of  its 
own.  In  its  delving  and  dreaming  it  goes 
beyond  the  reach  even  of  our  attempt  at  en- 
titling or  summing.  And  here  it  is,  perhaps, 
lesser  than  the  earlier  symphonies,  where,  it 
seems,  the  intensity  of  message  forces  the 
meaning  clear  of  mystery.  It  finds,  somehow, 
308 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

apart  from  the  broad  careers  of  its  great  prede- 
cessors, a  new  cycle  of  untrodden  path.  It  has 
not,  perhaps,  their  bigness  of  view,  nor  their 
breadth.  It  is  somewhat  confined  within  the 
poetic  fancy  of  the  Teutonic  nation.  Yet  it 
marks  the  truest  circle  of  its  own  beauty  and 
justification. 

In  its  recoil  from  the  classics,  it  necessarily 
lacks  their  completeness  of  view.  Therefore 
its  very  purpose  from  the  beginning  is  more 
special.  It  is  a  symphony,  not  of  Man  in  the 
broadest  sense,  nor  of  Life,  but  rather  of  a  cer- 
tain very  high  conception  of  the  Teuton  poet, 
complete  within  the  limits  of  nationality,  and 
of  a  more  idyllic  sentiment,  which  was,  aftet 
all,  lost  in  the  broad  scope  of  the  older  masters. 


309 


X 

SCHUMANN  (CONTINUED) 

Third  Symphony. 

OUR  first  sense  is  of  vigor ;  then  it  has  some- 
thing to  say.  It  is  clearly  not  joyful,  like  so 
many  symphonies ;  a  certain  stern  strength  for- 
bids. It  seems  to  have  some  special  poetic 
content,  which  it  is  struggling  to  express  with 
more  definiteness  than  the  usual  vague  sym- 
phony. So  it  suggests  three  kinds  of  works : 
first,  the  entitled  ;  lastly,  those  that  are  unfitted 
and  vague  even  to  the  composer  ;  between  them 
are  those  that,  while  untitled,  are  definite  to  the 
composer,  and  are  meant  to  show  a  meaning 
purely  on  the  musical  merits  and  by  musical 
means,  without  help  of  verbal  label. 

The  question  rises :  Is  it  right  to  set  the 
mind  puzzling?  Music  is  not  a  graphic  art, 
nor  explanatory,  nor  logical,  but  purely  emo- 
tional. Hence,  why  should  not  the  master  tell 
all  he  knows,  and  let  the  hearer  enjoy.  Still,  to 
withhold  the  literal  label  does  seem  to  save 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

music  from  the  ridiculous  position  of  being 
eked  out  by  words  in  its  purpose.  What  is 
the  answer  ?  We  must  get  over  the  fact  that 
music  is  not  meant  to  be  graphic.  Even  if 
music  were  to  paint  you  a  perfect  picture  with 
all  the  details,  or  tell  you  a  thrilling  story,  it 
would  really  do  nothing.  You  would  catch  it 
much  better  in  colors  or  in  words.  Therefore 
the  element  of  making  clear  an  outside  mean- 
ing must  be  abandoned  as,  after  all,  frivolous, 
irrelevant,  unworthy.  Even  if  we  are  accused 
of  false  pretence  in  writing  down  a  title,  we 
must  simply  bear  it.  But,  of  course,  we  must 
not  really  try  this  tonal  painting.  Only  in  so 
far  as  we  may,  in  writing,  be  burdened  with  the 
sense  of  a  subject,  may  we  tell  the  hearer  this 
in  words,  and  ask  him  to  feel  with  us,  at  every 
risk  of  false  accusation.  All  the  time  we  set 
him  guessing  is  wasted.  We  must  never  try  to 
ennoble  our  art  by  setting  it  on  a  throne  of 
verbal  significance.  If  it  communicates  a 
poetic  mood,  it  does  enough  and  the  highest. 
Whether  you  call  your  work  a  Rhine  Sym- 
phony or  a  Legendary  Symphony  or  Feudal  or 
Primeval,  anything  within  the  great  field  sug- 
gestive of  the  particular  direction  of  the  soaring 
3" 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

thought  or  the  color  of  the  spirit's  mood  will 
be  enough.  Whether  it  be  just  the  Rhine  or 
the  Ganges  is  not  necessarily  a  real  gain. 

Music  must  not  fear  to  be  irrelevant  even 
with  itself;  for  instance,  to  rush  off  into  an 
apparently  frivolous  by-way.  For  the  very  un- 
conscious impulse  that  suggests  the  flight  is 
more  relevant  than  any  carefully  conscious  plan 
and  keeping  to  the  plan.  And  thus  the  very 
attempt  at  consistent  picturing  defeats  the  whole 
object  of  spontaneous  expression  of  feeling.  It 
will  take  care  of  itself,  and  prove  its  own  veri- 
fication. 

In  this  symphony,  for  example,  knowing  the 
"  Rhine"  title  (which  Schumann  suggested),  we 
should  describe  our  impressions  in  certain 
words ;  not  knowing  it,  with  certain  others. 
But  in  any  case,  these  words  are  not  the  sym- 
phony itself.  They  would  change  at  each 
writing.  They  are  only  meant  to  suggest.  And 
whether  we  know  the  title  or  not,  if  we  are 
faithful  to  the  feeling  and  intelligent  in  our  art, 
we  are  bound  to  reflect  the  mood,  in  whatever 
words.  In  some  we  come  nearer  to  the  original 
feeling  than  in  others. 

Of  course,  there  is  no  doubt  that  in  some 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

cases  the  particular  mood,  if  specially  defined, 
may  be  more  difficult  to  catch  than  in  others ; 
for  instance,  where  there  is  a  dream  of  partic- 
ular national  legend  or  locality,  to  a  foreign  ear. 
And  here  again  the  answer  must  be  to  the  com- 
poser :  Don't  waste  time  in  puzzling  the  hearer. 
Tell  him  all  possible.  Let  him  enjoy  with  you. 
But  in  any  case  it  ought  to  be  purely  beauti- 
ful. Only  in  so  far  as  a  special  subject  dances 
before  the  mind  of  the  writer,  may  the  unin- 
formed listener  puzzle  to  a  certain  degree. 
Beauty  and  meaning  are  blended  to  an  undis- 
tinguishable  degree.  Where  the  meaning  is 
vaguest  for  definite  words, — as  in  Mozart — we 
are  apt  to  talk  merely  of  beauty ;  where  signi- 
ficance has  the  stress,  beauty  is  almost  lost  sight 
of.  There  is  no  dividing  line.  Beauty  ought 
not  to  be  in  itself  the  only  purpose, — nor  signi- 
ficance to  threaten  to  usurp  its  sway.  Signifi- 
cance must  be  unconscious,  unstriving.  But 
both  are  equally  important.  Meaning  of  poetic 
mood  leavens  the  vague  beauty  of  sound  to  a 
wholesome  message. 

It  is  not  unfair,  then,  to  take  every  hint  the 
master  gives.     So,  first,  we  must  see  how  every 
313 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


title  is  German.  "  Dritte  Symphonic"  it  is,  and 
begins  "  Lebhaft,"  —  no  foreign  Allegro.  This 
is  all  not  really  essential. 

Strong  and  rugged  is  the  central  quality, 
firmly  standing  on  the  basic  tone,  which  it  is 
loth  to  part  with,  which  holds  a  lingering  pedal 
point  beyond  its  natural  domain.  The  melody 
is  strongly  grounded  in  the  tonic  chord.  It  is 


Lebhaft. 
FULL  ORCHESTRA  (Woodwind  in  higher  octaves). 


fe-T-r- 

<*- 

FTr 

,-- 

f 

fr 

r 

ESnr" 

^ 

Ud 

3H 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


not  flowing,  almost  severe  and  rough  ;  resolute, 
not  insinuating. 

But  the  less  cantabile  the  melody,  the  more 
continuous  and  unending, — the  compensation 
in  all  things.  Striking  melody  must  have  an 
early  end  by  the  very  requirement  of  its  sym- 
metric beauty ;  in  its  charm  lies  the  necessity 
for  its  early  conclusion.  So,  conversely,  the 
less  of  melodic  rotundity,  the  more  spontaneous 
and  unlimited  the  progress.  So  here  there  is 
much  of  that  special  power  for  sequence,  for 
the  course  of  narrative,  that  Schumann  was 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

foremost  to  develop.  These  sequences  (from 
the  end  of  the  first  quotation)  seem  as  if  they 
might  well  go  on  forever. 

Soon  the  original  refrain  is  taken  up  with 
greater  chorus  than  before.  The  brass,  with 
sonorous  solemnity,  is  strongly  present  through- 
out the  symphony.  In  the  repetition,  a  phrase 
of  new  vivacity  appears  in  the  answer : 


Bass  doubled  below. 


all  carried  along  with  that  logic  of  sequence 
and  narrative  that  makes  all  seem  equally  worth 
quoting.  Almost  the  essence  of  the  movement 
is  contained  in  the  rhythm  which  appears  every- 
where, especially  in  horns  and  basses : 

Now  the  subject  enters  again  with  wonderful 
depth  of  device,  as  the  oboes,  clarionets,  and 
fagots  are  singing  the  melody  a  whole  beat 
behind  flutes,  brass,  and  violins,  and  yet,  instead 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

of  conflict,  there  is  but  a  richer  magnificence. 
The  feeling  of  depth  of  unconscious  design  is 
growing  upon  us,  in  step  with  the  symbolic 
music.  Again  comes  the  fluent  phrase,  which 
helps  to  a  cadence,  simmering  down  to  the 
quiet  lyric  feeling  of  the  second  melody,  mostly 
in  woodwind,  with  but  faintest  reminders  of 
more  solemn  background. 

WOODWIND  (with  the  low  strings  sustaining  the  harmony). 


Then  it  swings  with  bolder  plaint  out  into  the 
major,  but  quickly  returns  to  the  stern  theme 
of  the  beginning.    There  is  a  very  similar  rela- 
tion of  objective  and  subjective,  of  fate  and 
317 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

victim,  to  the  first  Allegro  of  Beethoven's  Fifth 
Symphony,  though  we  have  no  thought  of  a 
similar  extension  of  such  an  idea.  But  the 
repeated  prayer  of  the  second  and  the  stern 
progress  of  the  first  melody  suggest  the  analogy 
for  the  moment.  But  right  here  there  is  a 
sudden  glad  complexion  of  the  main  figure, 
that  spoils  the  continuing  symbol,  while  it 
enhances  the  charm  of  the  poem.  From  the 
high-spirited  burst — on  through  a  phrase  which 
sustains  the  feeling  in  more  meditative  vein. 
Then  suddenly  back  to  stern  business,  with  the 
rapid  run,  with  relentless  power,  in  fff,  inter- 
rupted anon  with  curious,  delicate  cogitations 
on  the  echoed  phrase.  Now  follows  the  second 
melody  with  a  new  profundity.  For,  as  it 
sings  on  high  in  woodwind,  out  of  the  depths 

WOODWIND. 


^— -ja^M^ 


STRINGS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


rises  an  interrupting  echo,  both  voices  chant- 
ing independently.  They  grow,  mutually  re- 
inforcing, losing  the  plaint,  to  a  climax  of 
power,  in  which  is  blended  the  vigor  of  the 
rapid  phrase.  When  the  first  subject  reappears 
in  the  basses,  it  comes  no  longer  in  terrible 
interruption,  but  rather  by  natural  expectation. 
The  element  of  passive  subject  is  not  lost ;  but 
by  the  courage  of  companionship  he  has  grad- 
ually nerved  himself  to  meet  the  nearing  fate. 
We  must  not  commit  ourselves  to  one  image. 
All  are  shifts  to  utter  the  general  mood.  Here 
there  is  a  new  spring.  If  forced  to  a  single 
phrase,  I  should  say  the  whole  had  the  feeling 
of  some  Stem  High  Festival, — big  with  deep 
omen,  but  still  festive.  Hear  this  solemn  echo* 
de  profundis : 

319 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Tutti. 


Throughout  there  is  this  feeling  of  High 
Festival  with  solemn  undertone,  where  the  bass 
is  constantly  speaking,  and  finally  breaks  out 
into  the  subject,  joined  later  by  the  whole 
chorus.  The  second  melody  now  sounds  more 
human  than  ever  in  the  contrast,  with  slight 
change  of  higher  swing.  Soon  reflection  ap- 
pears in  the  dual  discussing  voices ;  and  now, 
after  a  climax  (where,  before,  the  subject 

STRINGS,  OBOES,  AND  FLUTES. 


~==f±=i=F± 


CELLOS  AND  BASSES. 


320 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

sounded  powerfully)  is  the  "  best"  again.  In 
surprise  of  harmony,  trembling  in  high  strings 
and  wood,  in  softest  tones,  sings,  down  in  sacred 
horns,  not  the  melody  itself,  but  its  essence  in 
simple,  drawn-out  sounds. 

It  is  the  very  spirit  and  voice  of  ancient  legend 
sounding  through  the  hallowed  woodland, — in 
the  whole  passage,  where  the  horns,  at  last  rising 
to  a  high  note,  gradually  sink,  dim  meditation 
hovering  about,  down  and  away  into  unseen 
depths,  as  suddenly  the  clarion  woodwind  ring 
out  irregular,  conflicting  cries  through  the 
forest : 

OBOES. 


8va. 


CELLOS  (doubled  below  in  the  Basses). 

Then    higher   uncertain   calls    are  answered 
below  in  united  horns  and  lower  wood  ;  later  is 
the  simple  cry  of  this  legend-spirit,  twice  re- 
echoed from  highest  woodwind  to  lowest  brass. 
«  321 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  echoes  continue  on  broader  phrase  to  high- 
est possible  grandeur,  emerging  in  the  beginning 
melody,  itself  the  echoing  phrase,  in  fullest, 
loudest  union  of  all.  For  some  time  the  origi- 
nal verse  is  rehearsed.  In  its  midst  is  a  gloomy, 
uneasy  dying  away  of  broken  phrases  in  the 
wood.  Out  of  it  anon  come  cries  from  the 
pleading  melody.  It  might  be  the  Loreley 
witch  and  her  victim  caught  in  the  forest : 

"  Kommst  nimmermehr  aus  diesem  Wald." 

But  presently  sounds  again  the  firm  note  of 
main  theme.  And  now  all  is  in  gladder  strain. 
There  is  a  new  glow  of  epic  joy,  with  a  crown- 
ing burst  at  the  end.  It  is  the  clearest  epitome 
of  Teutonic  legendary  poetry. 

Scherzo.     Sehr  Massig. 

We  are  surer  than  ever  that  we  have  caught 
the  spirit,  when  we  come  to  the  second  move- 
ment,— the  only  one  in  which  Schumann  has 
descended  from  his  sacred  German  to  a  foreign 
word.  That  shows  its  importance ;  and  so 
there  is  no  doubt  of  the  humor.  I  should  call 
it  an  heroic  ballad  with  humorous  edge.  The 

national  color  is  here  of  the  sharpest.     To  one 
322 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

who  has  not  known  and  felt  the  German  ballad 
of  the  Rhine,  it  may  be  somewhat  of  a  riddle. 
But  then  it  is  all  the  clearer  from  its  very  limita- 
tions : 

Sehr  mdssig. 


In  strings  and  lower  horns. 


You   can  almost  see  the  words  under  the 
score,  beginning,  say : 

"  Im  hohen  Burgverliess," 

and  so  spinning  along  to  the  drive  of  the  song. 

But  it  must  be  a  sombre  old  ballad ;  of  dread 

323 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

danger,  and  some  impossible  happenings,  not 
without  a  grim  sort  of  ancient  humor.  We 
think  of  such  tales  as  of  the  old  robber  knight 
with  seven  sons  on  the  scaffold  ;  how  his  last 
request  of  the  Emperor  to  spare  his  sons  was 
answered  in  cruel  jest  :  that  he  should  be  saved 
whom  the  father's  headless  trunk  should  ap- 
proach ;  and  how  the  condition  was  fulfilled 
with  all  seven. 

Of  course,  there  is  no  absolute  need  of  all 
this  interpretation.  In  any  case,  there  is  no 
mistaking  the  sprightly  beauty  and  poetic  treat- 
ment. But  there  is  surely  much  added  charm 
in  the  knowledge  of  the  special  association  in 
the  composer's  mind. 

The  melody  is  finely  varied  in  other  verses, 
and  returns  with  telling  climax  to  the  origi- 
nal one.  Then  comes  a  more  puzzling  canto 
of  our  ballad.  A  curious  theme,  made  for 
musing  mystery  : 


IN  FAGOTS  AND  CELLOS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


begins  in  basses  and  threads  its  mystic  and 
complex  way  through  the  varying  voices.  It  is 
not  simply  that  the  poet's  thinking-cap  is  on, 
after  the  lyric  burst.  It  is  a  wandering  strain 
of  ancient  prehistoric  things, — "  eine  alte  Rune," 
— tracing  its  fateful  paths  in  the  dim  world  of 
gods  and  men,  in  the  days  when  fate  hung 
heavy  o'er  both  races.  It  is  not  the  pondering 
on  these  things.  For  this  is  a  ballad.  It  is  the 
things  themselves. 

The  dark  phrase  winds  on  its  destined  course : 


IN  STRINGS  AND  WOODWIND. 


Doubled  belovi. 


and  now  merges  into  the  heroic  strain,  where, 
however,  it  still  holds  equal  sway. 

In  the  third  canto  is  a  new  element, — the 
human,  personal,  the  purely  lyric.     But  anon 
the  ancient  saying  sends  a  warning  reminder, 
525 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

and  the  glamour  of  legend  is  not  lost.     It  is  all 
poetic  in  the  highest  degree : 


WOODWIND  AND  BASSES.         (VIOLINS.) 
X 


It  sings  in  a  more  modern  vein. 

Now  the  first  verse  returns  in  a  brighter  key, 
with  more  brilliant  resonance.  Then  it  sinks 
into  the  rnood  of  the  third  phase,  and  emerges 
once  again  as  at  the  beginning.  Towards  the 
end  are  quaint,  primitive  refrains  of  the  begin- 
ning ot  the  first  melody,  with  its  answer,  a 
326 


SYMPHONIES    AND    THEIR    MEANING 

kind  of  "Yes,  yes,"  again  and  again,  and  sug- 
gestions of  the  third.  The  ominous  second 
strain  has  vanished,  for  good,  indeed. 

In  its  absolute  isolation  from  the  rest  of  the 
symphony  the  Scherzo  is  all  the  greater.  Free 
from  attempts  of  connected  meaning  by  remi- 
niscent theme,  it  is  really  all  the  more  relevant 
to  the  general  plan. 

In  the  third  division  the  air  of  legends  has 
gone.  Its  very  absence  here  proves  their  reality 
before,  and  acquits  us  of  rhapsody.  Clearly, 
the  scope  of  the  symphony  broadens.  It  might, 
so  far,  have  been  all  in  the  realm  of  the  myth. 
Here  we  are  in  the  clear  sunlight  of  idyllic 
human  feeling.  And  it  is  absolutely  German 
to  the  core.  So,  probing  for  bearings,  we  think 
perhaps  of  a  "German  Symphony,"  like  the 
"Scotch"  of  Mendelssohn.  Nor  would  this  be 
far  wrong.  But  Schumann's  has  a  higher  and 
profounder  national  significance. 

The  Andante  melody  here — Nicht  schnell— 
is  pure  German  folk-song.  There  is  a  placid 
rest  from  earlier  mysticism. 

As  national  song  it  reminds  us  of  Schubert. 
But  it  has  that  special  vein  the  Germans  call 
327 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Nicht  schnell.  ( Woo  D\v  I N  D . ) 


"  innig,"  which  was  Schumann's  own,  although 
it  in  nowise  touched  his  leaning  towards  musing 
thought.  And  here,  too,  is  contrast  with  the 
earlier  symphony.  There  was  nothing  "  innig" 
about  primitive  legends. 

Like  most  Andantes,  this  is  of  lyric  sim- 
plicity. No  profound  depths  are  stirred,  as  in 
the  first  movement;  and  no  bold  heights  are 
gained.  The  first  melody  is  merely  followed 
in  and  out  by  another  of  equal  simplicity,  with 
hardly  a  change  of  tonal  color : 
328 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

STRINGS  with  accompanying  HORNS  AND  FAGOTS. 

-A 


^**^!j    £.55^ 


In  the  middle  they  both  sing  together,  and  a 
new  answer  leads  into  a  phase  of  gentle,  intimate 
discourse,  of  which  this  new  strain,  a  simple, 
descending  figure,  is  the  principal  subject,  with 
many  digressions  and  lesser  topics.  The  second 
melody,  too,  is  evident  throughout,  so  that,  at 
the  end  of  the  talk,  the  first  one  returns  with 
a  new  freshness.  The  end  has  some  of  the 
friendly  touches  of  the  former,  and  of  the  dia- 
logue. It  is  all  clearly  a  ray  of  earthly  sun- 
light before  entering  the  cathedral,  in  the  fourth 
division. 

The    second    slow    movement    is    marked 
"  Feierlich"     If  our  object  be  to  prove  the  ex- 
istence of  a  meaning,  we  need  say  little.     The 
very  direction — "  solemnly," — a  single  glance  at 
329 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  score,  show  the  intent  most  plainly.  And 
see  at  the  outset  the  utter  contrast  of  the  so- 
lemnity at  the  beginning  of  the  symphony  and 
here,  though,  in  both,  expressed  by  the  brass. 
For  there  it  was  the  quality  of  Waldhorn,  sacred 
to  the  religion  which  lurks  in  the  forest  from 
earliest  Teuton  ages.  Here  the  brass  is  the 
stern  dogma,  the  overwhelming  power  of  cathe- 
dral organ,  where  the  visible  architecture  is 
mirrored  in  the  massive  polyphony.  We  re- 
member Schelling's  definition  of  architecture : 
frozen  music.  Not  only  is  there  solemnity  of 
feeling  in  both  these  movements,  but  in  both  it 
is  religious.  Yet  could  there  be  a  greater  actual 
contrast?  Again  we  must  bow  before  this 
power  of  music  to  make  us  feel  the  strength 
and  quality  of  these  influences.  And  the  for- 
tunate tone-poet  can  simply  give  forth  directly 
their  essence,  without  the  words  which,  in  sacred 
things,  might  offend  others, or  rouse  the  prejudice 
of  bigotry.  Not  only  is  he  safer  in  music,  but 
much  more  powerful.  And  so  he  can  actually 
show  through  his  tone-poetry  the  soundness 
that  still  lingers  of  the  old  religion,  and  the 
stern  truth  of  the  new. 

To  be  just,  however,  there  is  undoubtedly  in 
330 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

this  episode  of  Schumann's  symphony  rather  a 
picture  of  mediaeval  German  church  spirit  than 
a  direct  utterance  of  personal  religion,  like  Bach's 
Passion  music.  There  is  clearly  a  sense  of  the 
picturesque ;  and  the  greater  stress  is  perhaps 
upon  nationality.  There  are  local  and  temporal 
limitations  in  the  religious  poem.  There  is, 
throughout,  the  constant  sense  of  dogma ;  no 
personal  melody ;  all  fitting  in  a  perfect  system 
of  priest-lore ;  the  main  theme  discoverable 
being  a  short  fugal  one,  beginning  in  trom- 

Feierlick. 

BRASS  WITH  pizzicato  STRINGS. 


bones  in  awful  minor.  At  the  end  of  a  sen- 
tence all  join  in  a  loud  assenting  phrase,  which 
is  surely  nothing  but  the  quickened  theme ; 
it  suggests  an  overwhelming  Amen  from  the 
multitude  in  the  body  of  the  church,  eagerly 


331 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


WHOLE  ORCHESTRA  EXCEPT  OBOES. 
Flutes  in  upper  octaves. 


responding  to  the  liturgy  of  chancel  and  choir. 
Then  the  doctrinal  structure  really  begins  with 
its  colossal,  dazzling,  massive  net-work.  If 
it  is  puzzling  on  the  score  to  the  lingering 
glance  (which  is  the  wrong  attitude),  what 
must  it  be  in  transient  sound.  And  there  is 
no  end, — no  gentle  cadence  of  secular  tune, — 
on  and  on  voices  enter,  breaking  in  one  upon 
the  other,  make  an  eternal  progress.  These 
curious  changes  of  movement,  all  with  the 
same  theme  :  first,  in  simple,  march-like  rhythm, 
suddenly  twice  as  fast  a  motion,  but  with  great, 
heavy,  three-paced  swing  ;  and,  finally,  with  the 
same  rate,  but  in  even  movement  again, — what 
are  they  ?  Different  doctrines  about  the  same 
central  truth  ?  Or  varying  attitudes  of  worship  ? 
But  there  is  always  one  central,  single  idea. 
332 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

We  cannot,  however,  ignore  the  constant 
gain  in  intensity,  together  with  actual  speed, 
of  a  certain  eagerness,  betrayed  in  strings 
trembling  in  the  theme,  with  sustaining  horns ; 
more  and  more  a  personal  reality  of  feeling, — 
and  then,  suddenly,  before  the  end,  a  breaking 
off  of  the  fateful  progress,  and  a  human  cry  in 
united  burst  in  new  key  or  color  of  tone ; 
then  back  to  the  former  march,  and  again  the 
interrupting  burst.  Strangely,  the  end  is  not  in 
massive  architectural  climax.  Rather,  the  last 
human  cry  has  prevailed  to  soften  the  former 
rigor,  and  the  first  phrase  has  a  certain  simplicity 
and  sincerity  of  Lutheran  chorale,  with  much 
diminished  conflict  of  voices,  with  hymn-like 
cadence. 

Finale. 

There  is  ever  the  danger  for  writer  and  reader 
to  forget  the  true  weight  of  interpreting  phrases 
.and  figures  ;  that  there  is  no  translation  of  fixed 
subject ;  that  the  real  content  is  the  general 
spirit  perceived  by  simple  enjoyment  of  the 
beauty  of  the  art-work.  With  this  in  mind,  we 
.have  really  much  more  freedom  ;  we  are  re- 
minded of  this  and  of  that ;  many  things  are 
suggested.  But  none  of  them  are  really  essen 

333 


SYMPHONIES   AND    THEIR    MEANING 

tial.  Where  they  are  thought  of  by  the  com- 
poser; where  they  are  mentioned  by  him  or 
even  set  down  as  governing  subject,  there  is  the 
best  reason  for  holding  still  to  the  same  view 
that  they  are  not  absolutely  needful  to  the  right 
perception.  And  yet,  for  the  purpose  of  sug- 
gesting the  beauty,  the  sentient  meaning,  they 
may  be  of  the  highest  use.  Once  having  entered 
on  the  essay  of  telling  in  words  of  the  value  of 
a  work  of  art,  we  are  hopelessly  cramped  if  we 
are  restricted  to  the  mere  setting  forth  of  tech- 
nical structure.  Therefore,  our  figures  are  indis- 
pensable for  suggestion;  for  literal  interpretation 
they  are  worthless. 

It  is  well  to  think  of  this  once  more  in  this 
fifth  and  last  division  of  our  Symphony, — 
mainly  because  of  the  great  danger  of  definite 
and  final  association,  to  which  we  are  lured  by 
the  fine  relevance  of  this  movement  with  the 
first  four.  Having  given  fair  warning,  we  shall 
not  fear  to  deck  our  impressions  freely  with 
suggested  figures. 

At    the   very    beginning,   with    this   strong, 

simple,  virile  song,  with  eminent  brass,  and  free, 

rolling  bass,  there  is  one  German  word  that  ever 

recurs,  to  which  we  can  find  no  English  equiv- 

334 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Lebfiaft. 

STRINGS,  FLUTES.  CLARIONETS,  FAGOTS  AND  HORNS. 

(  Flutes  in  higher  octave.) 


P        i      -*-    I        •*—   -fc=r-  _ 


f 


alent,  which  we  can  only  describe, — burschikos. 
It  is  the  spirit  of  German  university  life.  As  it 
is  a  "  Rhine"  symphony,  by  the  master's  ad- 
mission, as  he  did  celebrate  the  old  minster  at 
Cologne,  we  are  probably  near  to  his  own  con- 
scious idea  with  our  word.  In  such  a  sym- 
phony, teeming  with  the  typical  ideal  life  of 
the  German,  this  element,  of  the  university 
spirit,  would  hardly  be  absent.  At  any  rate,  its 
main  qualities  are  here,  the  stirring,  soaring 
335 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

spirit,  fearless  of  the  cynical  world,  firm  with 
manly  tread,  and  the  rough  humor,  too ;  they 
are  all  here. 

But  this  is  not  all.  And  it  is  not  all  so 
simple  of  content.  Nor  is  it  necessary  to 
restrict  our  suggestion  to  the  academic  life, 
properly.  It  is  a  larger  view  of  the  bustling 
doings  and  thought  of  the  old  German  Rhine 
city,  sacred  to  higher  interests  and  ideals. 

The  choral  i»ong  is  for  a  while  simple  in  its 
course,  and  needs  no  study  but  the  hearing. 
But  at  the  end  of  its  full  refrain  emerge  the 
four  horns  with  more  than  casual  theme,  while 
the  violas  are  supporting  in  their  own  livelier 
way : 


The  rest  all  take  it  up,  not  exactly  fugally, 
though  it  savors  strongly  of  the  cloister.  Surely 
it  is  a  reminder  of  the  solemn  old  cathedral 
phrase : 

336 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


but  much  faster.     Then  as  answer  comes  the 
pert  humor  of  this  phrase  : 

STRINGS  AND  WOODWIND.    (Doubled  above  in  Flutes.) 


1  JL'\- 


treated  with  the  same  fugal  suggestiveness ; 
ending  with  a  good,  honest  blare  from  the 
horns.  Now  we  are  back  in  the  march  spirit 
of  the  beginning.  And  here  is  a  longer  exten- 
sion of  an  earlier  episode  of  quieter  feeling, 
which  did  not  seem  important  before.  It  cer- 
tainly takes  away  from  the  masculine  harshness 
of  the  rest,  or  heightens  it  as  foil.  From  its 
close  succeeds  a  fine  antiphonal  shout  of  chords, 
as  all  the  wind  responds  to  wood  and  strings. 
Suddenly  this  is  tempered  to  hushed  minor 
337 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

chords ;  in  their  midst  we  hear  something  like 
the  old  cathedral  theme,  in  its  lighter  phase : 


(  VIOLAS.) 


Then  the  comic  theme  struts  in  again,  here 
and  there,  high  in  piping  wood,  while  our  last 
quoted,  more  serious  motive  is  singing  low  in 
alternating  strings. 

No  apology  is  needed  for  seeing  here  the 
master  touch  of  quaint,  mediaeval,  scholasti- 
cism, with  comic  hue,  —  below  the  pious  priest, 
above  the  flippant  studiosus,  —  much  like  the 
famous  scene  of  the  monk  in  Schiller's  "  Wai- 
338 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

lenstein's  Camp."  Alas  !  as  soon  as  the  word  is 
said,  it  seems  too  much.  The  humor  is  not 
expressed,  of  course.  Perhaps  Schumann  did 
not  ever  dare  to  think  it  to  himself.  But  it  was 
there,  the  more  truly,  in  a  less  conscious  stage. 
Comic  may  be  too  strong  for  sprightly.  There 
is  certainly  the  quaint  neighborhood  of  the 
monastic  and  of  the  secular,  and  the  latter 
seems  to  predominate,  finally  ending  the  epi- 
sode in  a  melodious  blast  in  the  brass  of  true, 
honest  German  feeling : 

WOODWIND  AND  STRING.    (Doubled  above.) 


Added  to  all  these  themes,  really  the  sinew 
of  the  whole,  is  a  certain  constant  movement 
from  the  quieter  middle  of  the  first  song,  which 
softens  the  saucy  wit  of  the  one,  and  the  serious 
tone  of  the  other,  and  gives  to  the  whole  a 
friendly  kind  of  sincerity,  which  is  specially 
caught  and  summed  in  the  (last  quoted)  strain 
of  the  horns,— more  than  ever  at  the  last  time, 
from  full  heart  and  lungs. 

339 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

And  so  straight  on  into  the  first  chorus,  with 
the  same  vehement  sincerity,  with  its  succeeding 
joyful  and  friendly  phrases.  The  brass  have 
more  and  more  to  do.  Sometimes  they  are 
given  free  room  to  themselves  alone, — answered 
by  strident  strings.  When  we  seem  to  see  the 
end,  they  all  stop  for  the  last  verse,  which  begins 
with  the  starting  of  a  heavier  and  more  vehement 
pace  in  low  strings,  in  stern  fugue  led  off  by 
fagots  and  two  horns,  followed  at  proper  inter- 
vals by  other  groups,  all  in  the  old  theme : 


WOODWIND.  BRASS  AND  STRINGS. 


CELLOS. 


In  they  come,  four  groups  and  more,  until 
we  can  no  longer  see  or  hear  them  distinct. 
Just  as  we  lose  the  sense  of  bearings  in  the 
architectural  mass,  they  join  into  a  closer  body, 
and  soon  are  snouting  united  a  last  acclaim,  all 
in  a  great  hymn,  which  is  neither  religious  nor 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

secular.    Too  broad  for  either,  it  includes  them 
both. 

So  in  this  German  Symphony  of  the  Rhine 
seem  to  merge  all  the  inspiring  influences  of 
the  nation.  But  it  does  not  need  its  title.  It 
speaks  not  of  localities,  rather  of  memories  and 
of  aspirations,  which,  though  they  may  have 
special  association,  belong  to  us  all. 


XI 

MENDELSSOHN 

THE  critic  cannot  always  be  optimist  and 
eulogist.  The  kind  of  catholicity  is  not  good 
that  tries  to  accept,  to  approve  everything. 
The  truth  is  that,  whether  we  will  or  no,  we 
cannot  say  our  honest  say  without  some  implied 
disparagement.  If  it  is  impossible  to  admire 
without  exaggeration,  it  is  easy  to  blame  by 
mere  silence.  Our  vehement  praise  of  one  is 
often  the  severest  word  against  another.  If  we 
were  treating  of  music  in  general,  our  praise  of 
Mendelssohn  would  be  unbounded.  If  he  had 
written  no  symphonies,  we  should  not,  in  omit- 
ting, ignore  him.  But  in  our  special  field,  there 
is  danger  that  by  faint  praise  we  may  do  some 
damning.  The  very  high  place  we  are  guarding 
for  the  symphony,  holds  us  to  an  honest  telling 
of  our  impression.  After  all,  what  the  man 
may  lose,  the  art  must  gain. 

Mendelssohn  was  all  but  master  in  the  high- 
est sense.  It  may  be  unwise  to  make  shelves 
14* 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

of  lesser  and  greater  poets ;  it  certainly  is  to  try 
a  rigid  ranking.  But  we  must  be  clear  in  mind 
about  the  word  we  are  often  using,  that  implies 
such  a  mastery  of  the  art  medium,  that  artisan- 
ship  is  merged  in  clear  poetry,  where  we  can  no 
longer  see  the  lines  of  conscious  toil.  This  is, 
indeed,  most  rare.  Then  there  are  lesser  and 
greater  forms.  There  may  be  writers  of  most 
expressive  songs.  Others  may  have  the  power 
over  profound  architecture  of  simultaneous 
voices.  But  this  must  be  quickly  seen.  Those 
works  wherein  the  whole  structure  is  of  another 
art,  not  created  by  the  musician,  cannot  test 
and  prove  the  true  master  like  those  which, 
absolute,  independent  in  tones  alone,  evolve 
with  inner  power  a  perfect  structure  all  their 
own.  Thus  a  writer  merely  of  greatest  song, 
of  oratorio,  or  of  opera,  has  not  measured  his 
power  in  the  pure  tonal  art,  which  is  most  diffi- 
cult because  of  the  very  absence  of  words. 
Here  the  very  perfection  of  form,  rounded  by 
a  certain  unconscious  process  of  crystallization, 
attests  its  truth  and  greatness. 

A  common  mistake  as  to  this  special  power, 
this  question  of  form,  must  not  be  passed  over, 
Strange  to  say,  it  is  a  mistake  found  as  often 

343 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

with  good  musicians  as  with  laymen,  perhaps 
oftener.  A  very  respectable  composer  of 
national  note  once  gave  the  author  his  recipe, 
which  was :  Get  your  themes  and  fit  them  in 
the  established  moulds.  In  other  words,  be 
original  about  your  melodic  subjects,  and,  in 
harmonic  treatment,  too,  be  your  sincere  self; 
but  in  form  follow  the  strict  directions  of  tradi- 
tion. There  are  no  other  forms  in  the  music 
world  than  these  sacred  ones :  the  sonata,  rondo, 
dance,  and  song;  and,  of  course,  there  never 
will  be. 

It  is  most  strange  this,  because  it  betrays 
utter  lack  of  the  very  idea  of  composition.  So 
there  is  this  constant,  almost  hopeless  confusion 
of  form,  the  abstract  quality,  and  special,  con- 
crete forms  and  moulds.  Just  so,  by  exact 
parallel,  is  the  confusion  of  thought,  the  pro- 
cess, with  special  thoughts,  so  that  the  scholar, 
who  has  never  wondered  beyond  his  precise, 
literal  logic,  can  see  none  of  this  highest  of 
man's  process,  unless  it  be  uttered  in  the  verbal 
language  of  makeshift.  It  is,  this,  the  main 
cause  for  the  low  conception  of  music.  What 
does  it  mean  ?  he  says.  You  cannot  tell  me 
precisely  in  words ;  therefore  it  means  nothing. 

344 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

He  does  not  see  that  all  that  his  literal  language 
does  is  to  suggest  by  the  shifts  of  a  limited  lot 
of  conventions,  by  vain  labels  aimed  at  high 
ideas,  by  combining  these  in  rough  images,  the 
inner  thought  that  is  sorely  struggling  for  true 
utterance.  He  cannot  see,  or  he  surely  will 
not,  that  this  very  utterance  is  far  clearer,  more 
joyous  in  the  language,  not  of  conventional 
shifts,  but  of  pure  tonal  beauty.  Finally,  he 
has  never  reflected  that  in  his  logic,  sacred  to 
the  language  of  prose,  the  true  essence  and 
secret  power  is  the  sequence  ;  that  this  sequence 
may  be  where  the  terms  and  premises  are  other 
than  verbal ;  indeed,  that  there  can  be  no  greater 
scope  for  this  sequence  of  man's  highest  thought 
than  in  melodies,  their  contrast,  the  depth  and 
complexity  of  their  combination,  and  in  the 
complete  cycle  of  their  roaming  career  within 
a  tonal  poem. 

To  return  to  the  former  question,  we  find 
such  a  mistake,  not  of  the  layman,  but  of  the 
respected  musician.  Originality  he  praises  in 
theme  and  in  the  agreement  of  simultaneous 
tones.  But  this  quality  of  all,  which  is  the 
final  test  of  the  master,  he  makes  a  mere  matter 
of  school-boy's  cramming.  So  we  can  never 

345 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

remember  too  often  that  the  quality  of  spon- 
taneous utterance  in  form  true  to  the  subject,  is 
utterly  distinct  from  memorized  schedules.  In- 
deed, it  is  hostile  in  this  sense,  that  every  true 
composition  must  vary  somewhat  from  the  out- 
line of  any  earlier  work  for  its  own  individuality. 
A  man  had  far  better  take  prosaic  themes  and 
let  them  flow  by  their  own  vital  motion  to  an 
organic  whole,  than  lay  new  melodies,  however 
beautiful,  in  the  dead  mould  of  older  works. 
So  many  evils  spring  from  this  that  great  stress 
must  here  be  allowed.  For  men  will  either 
insist  on  the  rigid,  fatal  formalism,  or,  revolting, 
will  welcome  all  abandon  of  complete  structure. 
The  true  reason,  I  suppose,  lies  in  the  diffi- 
culty of  perception.  And  it  is  not  very  different 
in  architecture.  Just  as  this  quality  is  the 
highest  to  conceive,  so  it  is  hardest  to  perceive. 
In  the  '*  frozen  music,"  a  child  may  admire,  in 
a  cathedral,  the  embossing  of  outer  doors,  or 
the  beauty  of  interior  detail ; .  a  youth  will 
catch  the  bold  leap  of  the  tower ;  a  man  will 
feel  the  massive  dignity  of  vaulted  aisle.  But 
he  must  be  almost  a  builder  himself  who  will 
prove  the  completeness  of  rounded  whole. 
Now  in  music  it  is  actually  still  more  difficult. 
346 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

For  the  cathedral  is  ever  before  us.  But  in  the 
symphony,  the  first  tones  have  vanished ;  en- 
chanted with  the  present,  we  forget  the  past ; 
and  how  shall  we  ever  conjure  it  all  together 
to  feel  the  test  of  perfect  sequence  and  rele- 
vance ?  Still,  hard  or  easy,  we  cannot  lose 
sight  of  this  greatest  of  elements.  And,  indeed, 
it  may  not  be  so  bad  a  problem.  We  are  apt 
to  proceed  too  much  on  the  need  of  conscious 
study.  We  forget  that  the  greatest  enjoyment 
is  most  unstudied.  The  truth  is  here  almost  a 
paradox.  The  more  the  hearer  knows,  the 
more  he  has  a  basis  of  earlier  study,  the  more 
careless  may  be  his  enjoyment.  The  beauty  of 
melody,  the  fitness  of  contrasting  subjects,  the 
cycle  of  rounded  path  he  will  feel  without  the 
need  of  more  consciousness  than  the  creating 
master.  But  let  there  be  no  false  notion  of  the 
ignorant.  High  art  requires  mind  to  enjoy  as 
well  as  to  create.  Once  for  all,  would  there 
were  an  end  to  those  nauseous  phrases  of  the 
Philistine,  proud  of  his  ignorance,  that  he 
does  not  understand  music,  but  knows  what  he 
likes.  It  must  not  be  thought  that  there  is 
Something  inherent  in  the  natural  man  more 
than  in  the  natural  animal,  whereby  he  may 
347 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

catch  great  thoughts  without  thinking.  It 
would  be  a  very  false  gospel  to  preach  that 
great  music  is  very  easy  to  see  by  a  certain 
trick.  The  masterpieces  of  music  must  be 
approached  in  far  humbler  spirit.  It  is  all  part 
of  the  original  purpose  of  the  art,  whether  of 
entertainment  or  of  highest  moral  message. 
If  it  is  the  former,  it  were  an  unworthy  kind  of 
materialism  to  spend  so  much  time  in  mere  prepa- 
ration for  an  amusement.  So,  again,  this  talk 
of  the  Philistine  about  the  lack  of  meaning  in 
music,  this  easy  judgment  of  the  blissful  igno- 
rant on  what  they  like,  is  all  irrelevant.  They 
do  not  know  because  they  have  not  looked. 
If  they  were  not  so  serious,  they  would  remind 
us  of  the  famous  Sam  Weller,  who  did  not  see 
his  father  in  court  when  looking  straight  at  the 
ceiling. 

Mendelssohn  is  the  very  type  to  test  this 
mastery.  He  seemed  to  have  all  the  qualities, 
if  any  one  ever  did.  And,  indeed,  many  of 
them,  of  all  but  highest  value,  are  sadly  out  of 
vogue  in  modern  days,  such  as  the  much 
neglected  elements  of  absolute  clearness,  and 
of  thoroughgoing  refinement  in  detail  and  in 
spirit.  He  is  charged  with  lack  of  depth  and 
348 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

of  intensity  of  feeling.  In  reality,  he  was  most 
sincere  in  his  very  freedom  from  that  pseudo- 
passion  that  seeks,  in  its  false  whirl,  to  throw  a 
cloud  of  dust,  covering  great,  primal  faults. 

Mendelssohn  was  most  lucid  in  many-voiced 
building  and  strong 'in  massive  treatment;  his 
power  over  the  palette  of  orchestral  colors  was 
bred  in  his  very  fibre.  With  all  these,  which 
led  to  success  in  other  paths,  he  lacked  in  per- 
sonal quality  to  employ  them  in  their  highest 
use.  In  his  wonderful  expression  of  local  color 
and  his  objective  depiction,  he  was  more  affected 
by  an  outward  stimulus  than  by  his  own  sub- 
jective feeling.  Mendelssohn  made  no  advance 
in  the  outline  of  the  symphony  over  Haydn. 
It  is,  therefore,  significant  that,  correspondingly, 
he  shows  no  inherent  strength  in  his  symphonic 
feeling  or  ideas.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  driven 
to  find  emotional  content  in  historic  sentiment 
or  in  scenic  description.  These  subjects  belong 
more  properly  to  the  lesser  overture,  and  here 
Mendelssohn  was  in  the  first  rank. 

It  is  under  the  head  of  form  that,  it  seems, 
Mendelssohn  falls  short  of  the  measure  of  mas- 
ter. And  here  he  serves  wonderfully  to  illustrate 
the  great  virtue  of  the  symphony.  If  we  could 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

use  another  word,  we  should  be  glad, — one  less 
coldly  technical.  After  all,  it  is  exactly  the 
same  quality  we  have  been  searching  for  in  each 
succeeding  master,  that  of  live  continuity,  of 
agreement  of  all  regions  of  the  work  in  the 
common  purpose.  There  is  nothing  mysterious 
about  it ;  nor  is  it  the  trick  of  handicraft.  It 
is  all  a  matter  of  sincerity,  intensity  of  purpose. 
If  a  child  has  a  message  to  give,  and  he  is 
absorbed  in  its  truth  and  value,  he  will  say  it 
without  faltering  to  many  people.  The  halting 
will  come  when  the  natural  impulse  of  com- 
munication is  weakened.  The  principle  is 
exactly  the  same  as  to  the  clear,  continuous 
homogeneity  of  a  work  of  art.  In  the  master 
symphonies  the  motive  purpose  was  strong 
enough  to  sustain  a  clear  thread  and  plan 
throughout. 

The  real  trouble  is  not  the  lack  of  form,  but 
the  want  of  feeling,  of  the  content  of  the  mes- 
sage. The  outward  incoherence  is  merely  the 
sign  of  original  weakness.  None  of  the  ele- 
ments of  the  art  of  music  are  so  keen  a  test  of 
sincerity  of  the  prompting  feeling  as  that  of  har- 
mony of  outline.  It  is,  in  the  spontaneous 
sense,  the  true  justification  of  the  whole, — like 
35° 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  final  answer  in  algebra,  which  verifies  the 
proposition. 

It  will,  of  course,  be  said :  How  may  this 
spontaneous  perfection  be  distinguished  from 
the  mere  imitation  of  old  exemplars?  It  is 
much  the  same  question  as  in  other  imitations, 
of  greater  or  lesser  art,  from  poetry  to  lace. 
Sometimes  the  earmark  of  the  false  is  the  very 
strictness  of  its  adherence  to  the  true.  Thus, 
when  we  said  above  that  Schumann's  Noveletten 
were,  perhaps,  his  greatest  work,  it  was  from  this 
very  conviction  of  the  powerful  coherence  of 
the  various  episodes  in  a  plan  of  radical  novelty. 

Finally,  in  a  symphony,  in  the  very  highest 
meaning,  our  quality  of  form  does  not  relate  so 
much  to  the  completeness  of  the  several  move- 
ments, as  to  their  mutual  relation  in  the  whole. 
It  is  something  like  the  old  truth,  that  two  halves 
do  not  make  a  whole,  that  of  four  perfect  sym- 
phony movements  the  whole  may  be  actually 
less  than  each  of  the  parts,  in  poetic  value. 

There  is,  then,  no  technical  lack  nor  want  of 
detailed  beauty  that  we  find  in  Mendelssohn. 
The  greatest  charge  we  can  bring  against  him 
is  that -his  symphonies  do  not  fulfil  our  highest 
idea  of  the  form.  Even  so,  there  is  no  denying 
35* 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

their  enchanting  beauty ;  the  sincerity  of  their 
clearness,  thoroughness,  self-restraint ;  the  high 
purity  of  their  tone ;  the  poetic  charm  and 
brilliance  of  treatment.  We  must  merely 
withhold  that  highest  of  ali  qualities,  a  strong, 
pervading,  uniting,  subjective  feeling. 

In  other  ways  Mendelssohn  showed  that  he 
had  not  that  intensity  of  personal  feeling  which 
expresses  itself  in  highest  form,  breaking,  in  the 
hands  of  later  masters,  the  fetters  of  the  earlier, 
and  extending  their  limits.  Rather  he  genially 
reflected  other  poetic  conceptions,  as  in  his  rare 
music  for  the  Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  Mendelssohn  was 
sincere  in  his  very  moderation.  He  had  none 
of  the  false  prophet,  who  works  himself  into  a 
conscious  state  of  false  passion.  In  his  balance 
of  fine  mean,  he  differs  strikingly  from  most 
of  the  masters  we  have  treated.  He  had  not 
the  profound  sympathy  of  Beethoven ;  but  he 
had  more  than  Schubert.  The  quality  which 
is  somewhat  opposed,  that  of  light  fancy,  where 
imagination  runs  away  with  personal  feeling,  he 
shared  with  Schubert  not  unequally.  But  he 
had  not  the  bold  scope  of  Schubert's  mind. 
He  was  rather  the  orthodox  musician  of  his 
352 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

century,  setting  its  sacred  dramas  and  services, 
celebrating  picturesque  scenes  and  striking  his- 
tory. But  the  writing  of  oratorios  in  the  great 
sense  had  been  accomplished  in  the  previous 
century.  Here  he  was,  after  all,  a  follower. 
He  was  original,  individual,  chiefly  in  his  special 
extension  of  Programme  Music.  We  have 
seen  Schumann's  attitude.  Mendelssohn's  was 
poetic  in  the  highest  degree.  But  it  was  not 
of  sufficient  dignity  for  the  great  forms  of  pure 
instrumental  music.  It  fitted  better  the  looser 
overture.  Therefore  it  seems  that  his  greatest 
works  are  his  scenes  from  the  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream  and  his  striking  overtures  with 
scenic  and  historic  titles.  Mendelssohn  had 
little  touch  with  the  great  stirring  spiritual  and 
intellectual  discoveries  of  his  time.  He  did  not 
utter  and  represent  them  as  did  Beethoven  and 
Schubert  in  their  age,  and  Schumann  in  a  lesser, 
national  way  in  his.  But,  then,  neither  did  Men- 
delssohn represent  certain  downward  tendencies. 
The  symphony  must  demand,  once  for  all, 
the  subjective  vein.  This  does  not  say  that 
there  may  not  be  a  special  title,  implied  or  ex- 
pressed. But  the  treatment  is  of  the  inner, 
individual  view,  not  the  mere  outward  depiction. 
23  353 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Here  the  Scotch  Symphony  falls  short.  Its 
only  continuous  purpose  is  the  Scotch  character 
of  the  melodies.  This  is  a  purely  external 
unity ;  it  does  not  affect  the  personal  conception 
of  the  poet.  However  exquisitely  beautiful 
and  tempting  with  its  rich  depth  and  brilliant 
complexity,  we  must  not  invite  the  reader  to  a 
hopeless  search  for  such  an  inner  meaning  as 
the  symphony,  in  our  view,  must  have.  But 
the  Italian  Symphony  here  stands  distinct. 
Evidently  the  intent  here  was  not  the  outward, 
national  likeness  of  tunes.  There  must  have 
been  a  certain  Teutonic  subjective  conception 
in  the  musician's  mind,  which  pervades  most 
of  the  work.  It  has  the  true  plan,  if  not  the 
complete  fulfilment.  It  was  not  a  mere  reflec- 
tion of  Italian  skies.  It  is  rather  the  inner 
picture  which  every  German  poet  has  of  the 
ideal  land  of  beauty  and  art.  Mendelssohn 
has  certainly  suggested  this. 

Italian  Symphony  (No.  4). 

The  name  "Italian,"  unlike  many  musical 
titles,  was  constantly  used  by  the  composer. 
The  work  is  a  direct  expression  of  that  enchant- 
ment for  the  ideal  land  of  beauty,  joy,  and  art 

354 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

which  has  held  Germans  captive  from  the 
earliest  invasions  of  Goths,  through  the  at* 
tempts  at  conquest  of  a  Barbarossa,  to  the 
poetry  of  a  Goethe. 

Exactly  opposed  to  the  "  Scotch,"  there  is  no 
actual  trace  of  Italian  nationalism  in  die  music. 
It  is  German,  a  pure  German  expression  of  -de- 
light. So  the  symphony  is  not  graphic  or 
picturesque ;  it  is  a  highly  poetical  utterance 
of  the  German  idea  of  Italy. 

The  first  theme,  in  Allegro  V'wace,  gives  the 

STRINGS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


stamp  of  simple  joyousness  to  the  whole  move^ 
ment.  It  strikes  the  leading  note,  which  is  re- 
flected in  various  lesser  melodies.  The  texture 
of  the  whole  is  wonderfully  close.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  trace  outwardly  the  subtle  similarity 
and  relation  of. melodies.  The  first  builds  in 
the  very  beginning  a  stirring  climax  on  its 
own  theme,  resounding  at  last  vigorously  in 
the  basses.  Throughout,  there  is  the  element 
of  airiest  lightness.  This  is  first  suggested  by 
a  fluent  phrase  at  the  close  of  the  main 
melody.  By  deft  turns  and  by  the  trick  of 
sequence  it  evolves  ever  new  phrases,  hardly 
like  the  first  save  in  the  merry  pace.  It 
gives  the  whole  movement  a  wonderful  fresh- 
ness. Ever  it  bubbles  forth  in  a  new  guise. 
You  cannot  mistake  its  hidden  personality. 
The  second  melody,  which  continues  the 
spirit  of  the  first,  is  sacred  to  the  woodwind, 

CLARIONETS  AND  FAGOTS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


though  the  strings  are  lightly  dancing  about 
playfully. 

The  melody  extends  into  purest  song,  quite 
merging  the  dance  at  times.  Faintly  a  solo 
clarionet  calls  from  the  distance,  and  presently 
the  merry  chorus  of  the  first  theme  are  all 
about,  quite  drowning  with  their  festive  bustle 
the  more  delicate  note  of  the  second. 

The  best  of  it  is  the  sparkling  discussion 
after  this  presenting  of  themes  has  been  repeated. 
It  begins  with  a  restless  phrase  which  has 
threaded  its  way,  we  cannot  tell  how,  from  its 
source  in  the  cadence  of  the  first  melody.  But 
it  is  too  volatile,  too  incessant  in  its  shallow 
chatter  to  take  the  lead  ;  so  it  soon  subsides  into 
mere  companionship  with  a  theme  of  greater  dig. 
nity  and  distinction,  which  now  enters.  Again 
we  feel  its  kinship  to  the  others,  and  its  fitness 
in  the  whole  ;  but  we  cannot  trace  it  outwardly : 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Around  it  develops,  in  the  strings  alone,  an 
episode  purely  fugal,  yet  without  the  least  odor 
of  the  lamp,  nay,  with  all  the  fragrance  of  the 
wood,  full  of  the  truest  poetry.  The  minor 
gives  it  a  touch  of  sombre  romance.  From  the 
almost  prosaic  hilarity  of  the  beginning  we 
have  plunged  into  the  land  of  strange  legends, 
into  dim  mystery  of  history  that  merges  into 
myth.  Into  the  midst  the  first  theme  bursts, 
first  in  the  wood,  then  in  the  brass,  alternating ; 
still  the  fiigal  play  continuing,  yet  all  so  spon- 
taneous, fresh,  and  smooth  that  you  do  not 
think  of  counterpoint  unless  you  look  at  the 
score.  It  is,  indeed,  that  highest 'art,  which 
makes  least  show  of  means  and  of  difficulties, 
concealing  them  beneath  the  wealth  of  feeling. 

This  stage  of  the  two  themes  is  of  highest 
interest,  as  it  is  fought  now  with  successive 


WOODWIND  AND  STRINGS  (doubled  above). 


CELLOS  AND  BASSES. 


358 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

assertion  of  one  and  the  other,  now  with  equal 
insistence  of  both  at  the  same  time. 

They  are  so  different  in  humor:  the  fiigal, 
full  of  dark  romance,  the  first  melody  mere 
holiday  gladness. 

Strange  to  say,  the  official  second  theme  has 
no  part  in  the  discussion.  But  later,  when, 
after  a  lull,  the  original  order  of  tunes  re-enters, 
the  second  appears  in  a  new  way,  sung  as  duet 
of  cellos  above  violas.  But  even  here  the 
darker-hued  fugal  theme  intrudes  its  humor, 
first  lightly  in  the  minor.  But  as  it  grows  more 
vehement,  it  is  squarely  attacked  by  the  first 
melody  in  the  original  key.  After  a  struggle 
of  a  few  bars,  the  latter  triumphs,  and  holds  its 
cheery  sway  to  the  end. 

The  melody  of  the  second  movement  is  a 
perfect  lyric  embodiment  of  a  phase  of  Italian 
poetry  as  it  appears  to  the  German  mind.  Bur- 
dened with  a  wealth  of  legendary  feeling,  it 
belongs  to  a  rare  type  which  is  indefinable ;  in 
folk-song  it  is  sometimes  a  setting  of  a  strange 
ballad  of  foreign  land.  We  remember  that 
other  type  we  found  common  in  Beethoven  and 
Schubert,  in  the  Seventh  and  in  the  C  Major, 

359 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

and  we  wonder  at  the  idea  of  thus  arraying  all 
great  melodies.  I  believe  you  would  find  the 
melody  of  mystic,  almost  philosophic  search  ; 
another  class  of  dim  legend  or  ballad  as  here  ; 
another  of  intimate,  friendly  confidence.  We 
might  try  to  analyze  what  makes  this  legendary 
sound,  but  we  prefer  intuition  to  hard  proof. 

Andante  con  moto. 
FAGOTS  AND  VIOLAS  (doubled  an  octave  above  in  Oboes1). 

I 


CKLI.OS  (doubled  an  octave  below  in  Basses). 


Much  of  the  charm  lies  in  the  stately  move- 
ment of  strings,  while  the  song  proceeds  above 
in  the  wood.     Later,  the  violins  take  up  the 
theme,  and  the  flutes  join  the  obligato,  somehow 
360 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

picking  out  a  shadowy  counter-melody  in  the 
movement.  Indeed,  it  is  all  melody,  like  the 
simple  verses  of  a  ballad,  telling  its  sad  story, 
without  reflection  or  overflowing  emotion.  Sc 
the  next  verse  is  mysteriously  told  by  strings 
alone,  in  the  minor,  the  violins  singing  the  story 
to  the  fateful,  ever  present  accompaniment  of 
the  lower  strings : 

In  Strings  alottt. 


There  is  a  queer  bit  of  humor  at  the  end, — 
pure  Mephistophelian.  He  must  have  sold  his 
soul.  Immediately  follows  a  touching  strain, 
all  in  human  major, — a  new  melody  in  the 
clarionets. 

As  it  flows  along  in  more  and  more  intimate 
vein,  it  is  rudely  stopped  by  minor  strokes  which 
herald  the  original  ballad,  though  not  in  regular 
verse, — mere  vague  memories.  Once  more  the 
human  strain  enters  with  all  the  contrast  of 
361 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


CLARIONET. 


sharpest  colors.     The  whole  ends  in  the  full 
atmosphere  of  legendary  mystery. 

The  Scherzo  is  bucolic  and  playful,  with 
idyllic  humor.  But  the  relevance  is  not  clear. 
There  is,  to  German  ears,  unmistakably  some- 
thing of  their  own  folk-song  in  the  melody, 
and  this  more  specially  because  the  cadence  is 
that  of  a  well-known  Volkslied.  Indeed,  the 
Scherzo  seems  a  mere  setting  for  the  gem,  the 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


ET 


J  J 


Trio,  with  its  intensely  romantic  melody,  for 
horns  and  bassoons.  It  supplies  all  that  we 
crave  in  the  placid  simplicity,  almost  plainness 
of  the  former.  And  as  if  to  convince  us  that 
the  Scherzo  is  but  foil  to  the  Trio,  the  latter 
pervades  the  close  of  the  movement. 

TRIO.  HORNS  AND  FAGOTS.  VIOLINS. 

£-& 


But  of  the  whole  it  must  be  admitted  that 
its  place  in  the  general  plan  is  not  clear.     It 
does  not  seem  to  have  a  value  of  its  own,  pro- 
portioned to  each  of  the  other  movements. 
363 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  Saltarello  is  conceived  in  that  special 
vein  of  Mendelssohn's,  of  lightest  fancy  and 
rhythm,  so  different  from  the  humor  of  Beetho- 
ven. Mendelssohn's  dance  seems  that  of  an 
imaginary  race,  which  knows  of  nothing  but 
joyousness ;  Beethoven's  is  of  human  beings. 

Illustrations  and  examples  are  dangerous, 
tying  the  listener  to  accidental  association. 
Yet  the  temptation  is  too  great  to  suggest  in 
the  Saltarello  the  humor  and  poetic  antics  of 
Hawthorne's  "  Faun."  It  is  based  largely  on 
the  rhythm  of  the  main  melody : 


t^-LCT 

WOODWIND. 


L~ar 

It  is  one  of  those  phrases  that,  lacking  in 
definite  beauty,  seem  capable  of  endless  exten- 
sion and  variation.    In  the  incessant  motion  we 
are  almost  reminded  of  the  Finale  of  Schubert's 
364 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

great  symphony.  But  we  dismiss  the  thought 
before  it  is  uttered.  The  intermediate  episodes 
are  of  no  special  importance.  In  the  middle  is 
a  striking  passage,  very  similar  in  conception 
and  construction  to  the  fugal  one  in  the  first 
movement,  where,  on  the  figure,  imitated  in 


strict  canon,  there  is  built  what  is  really  an  old- 
fashioned  round  in  dance-rhythm,  at  first  only 
in  strings,  gradually  embracing  the  woodwind, 
the  whole  forming  one  of  the  longest  episodes 
in  the  symphony, — an  orgy  ot  dance  and  of 
counterpoint. 

Altogether  it  seems  that  a  noble  plan  is  sug- 
gested and  sustained  with  vigorous  feeling  and 
high  art  through  the  first  two  movements.  In 
the  third  it  seems  to  halt.  The  fourth  has  a 
certain  clear  agreement  with  the  name  "  Italian." 
In  its  purely  objective,  almost  graphic  treatment 
it  might  stand  with  more  perfect  fitness  as  the 
last  of  a  suite  of  independent  tone-pictures, 
than  as  the  conclusion  of  a  subjective  poem, 
such  as  the  first  half  of  the  work  promises. 
365 


XII 

BRAHMS 

THE  symphony  was  not  in  agreement  with 
the  reactionary  attitude  of  the  Romanticists. 
With  the  return  to  Classicism  it  finds  its  origi- 
nal importance  again.  Mendelssohn  showed 
his  lack  of  the  true  symphonic  thought.  Cor- 
respondingly, his  form  was  largely  mere  imitation 
of  the  old.  By  this  double  test,  Schumann  is 
more  nearly  in  line  with  the  symphonic  mas- 
ters. As  his  untitled  works  expressed  truer 
symphonic  feeling,  so  his  freedom  in  treatment 
and  in  structure  was  path-breaking.  Still,  one 
often  feels  that  he  was  only  about  to  realize  the 
highest  grasp.  He  was  finding  his  way.  He 
was  transplanting  his  Romantic  spirit  in  broader, 
classic  fields.  In  so  far  as  this  spirit  is  reaction- 
ary, impulsive,  intense,  specialized,  its  forms  are, 
needs,  abrupt,  fragmental.  There  must  be  this 
perfect  correspondence  between  form  and  feel- 
ing. You  cannot  pour  new  wine  into  old 
bottles.  The  writing  of  symphonies  by  the 
366 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Romanticists  was  a  little  too  conscious.  Chopin 
wisely  refrained  entirely.  They  wrote  because 
they  felt  a  challenge  rather  from  without  than 
from  within.  Schumann,  however,  the  most 
profound  of  them,  gradually  as  his  sentiment 
was  deepening  and  his  vision  broadening,  was 
growing  to  fit  the  mantle  of  the  classic  masters. 
The  real  heir,  it  is  often  said,  was  to  be 
another,  a  younger,  coming  at  a  time  ripe  for 
mature  survey  of  the  great  preceding  schools 
which  group  about  Bach,  Beethoven,  and  Schu- 
mann. Instead  of  reacting  from  the  classic  and 
its  forms,  he  mastered  them  from  the  outset. 
He  grasped  more  thoroughly  than  any  other 
the  polyphonic  depth  of  Bach's  style.  He  was 
the  first  to  unite  it  with  the  structural  freedom 
and  boldness  of  Beethoven.  We  have  seen 
how  the  vein  of  Bach's  musical  thought,  pro- 
foundest  of  all,  had  never  found  a  worthy  out- 
line in  pure,  unsung  music.*  Brahms  gave  it 
the  new  dress  of  secular  form.  Finally,  he 
absorbed  the  spirit  of  the  Romanticists,  which 
was  still  crying  for  more  complete  utterance ; 
so  that,  while  classic  in  his  form,  he  is  often 


See  chapters  on  Schumann. 
367 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

called  a  disciple  of  Schumann.  His  work  is 
strictly  in  fulfilment  of  Schumann's  ideals. 

It  sometimes  seems  that  in  a  purely  Romantic 
period  there  can  be  little  of  final  truth.  And 
thus  the  symphony  does  not  specially  suit  it. 
It  is  the  age  for  fragmental  bursts,  breaking  the 
leading  strings  of  a  too  limited  classicism. 

When  first  you  come  into  a  garden,  unknown 
in  boundary  and  contents,  you  dash  here  and 
there  in  reckless  enjoyment,  like  the  bee  sipping 
irresponsibly.  This  is  Romanticism,  with  its 
singing  of  separate  beauties,  its  predominance 
of  pure  feeling.  When  once  you  begin  to 
trace  outlines,  limits,  order,  a  meaning,  you 
enjoy  the  garden  as  a  whole,  not  in  wild,  frag- 
mental profusion.  This  is  classicism,  with  pre- 
dominance of  form.  Of  the  two,  the  latter  is 
final ;  the  former  necessarily  precedes. 

The  symphony  is  a  final  summing,  a  com- 
plete view.  It  is,  in  its  true  nature,  cosmic,  not 
national.  Here  lies  the  reason  for  that  strange 
lack  of  patriotism  in  the  poet  Goethe.  Now, 
there  must  be  in  a  classic  period  a  classic  re- 
action, a  strong  element  of  intellectuality. 
Thefe  is,  besides  the  mere  utterance  of  emotion, 
the  problem  of  reconciliation.  As  against  in- 
368 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

tensity  of  feeling  there  must  be  breadth  of 
vision.  Depth  is  more  needful  than  velocity. 

Romanticism  is  like  the  minus  quantity  in 
algebra.  The  natural  reaction  from  it,  romantic 
rebellion  from  romanticism,  brings  back  classi- 
cism. The  more  novel  and  fresh  Brahms  is 
in  his  feeling,  the  more  he  suggests  the  serene 
classic  repose.  But  it  is  in  the  style,  the  man- 
ner of  his  working,  that  we  must  expect  the 
sharpest  difference.  And  it  is  here  that  he  is, 
perhaps,  most  inspiring.  Schumann  wrote  of 
Brahms's  youthful  works  under  the  title  "  New 
Paths."  It  is  quite  possible  that,  in  a  narrower 
sense,  he  is  merely  breaking  paths  for  others. 
But  he  is  heroically  pointing  and  urging  the 
right  way,  though  the  narrow.  He  insists  on 
uttering  his  truth  within  the  perfect  language  of 
one  of  the  arts,  not  in  the  polyglot  of  all.  It 
is  by  internal  mastery  in  all  its  dimensions, — > 
in  linear  melody,  in  extent  of  form,  in  depth 
of  architectural  polyphony  that  he  raises  the 
art,  strongest  and  profoundest  of  all,  to  a  plane 
higher  than  ever  before. 

Brahms  seems,  at  times,  greatest  for  this  very 
direction  of  his  art,  for  the  courage  of  his 
intellectuality.  Every  one  is  afraid  nowadays 
•  *4  369 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

of  high  art  and  of  its  defence.  We  dread  the 
slur  of  pedantry.  Low  art  seems  to  be  the 
cry.  Let  us  not  believe  it,  though  the  masses 
are  against  us.  In  art,  democracy  does  not 
count.  If  a  man  is  charged  with  intellectual 
stress,  that  ought  to  bring  a  presumption  of 
greatness,  not  of  weakness.  Romanticism  pays 
die  penalty  for  its  mad  rebound  in  the  extreme 
abandon  of  the  principles  and  quality  of  high 
art.  The  looseness  of  Schubert,  the  intensity 
of  Schumann,  the  realism  of  Berlioz,  were 
naturally  followed  by  modern  amorphism  and 
sensationalism. 

Because  a  man  is  difficult  to  perceive,  is  felt 
by  the  few,  is  no  reason  against  his  greatness. 
On  the  contrary,  it  speaks  something  for  his 
originality,  for  his  freshness  and  truth.  It  wa? 
Brahms's  great  deed  to  lead  back  to  the  high 
level  of  the  masters, — the  only  vantage-ground 
from  which  music  can  answer  the  charge  of 
lack  of  meaning  and  worse.  Yet,  by  inherent 
vigor,  the  novelty  of  his  poetry,  on  his  first 
appearance,  was  such  as  to  flatter  the  extreme 
Romanticists,  led  by  Liszt,  that  a  new  hero  had 
joined  their  ranks.  No  outward  act  of  artist 
is  so  impressive  as  this  resolute  step  of  the 
370 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

youthful  Brahms  in  turning  sharply  away  from 
that  dominant  school  of  shallow  aims. 

His  life  and  work  are  a  rebuke  to  the  com- 
mon modern  idea  of  art  which  has  brought  it 
such  reproach,  so  that  it  is  commonly  heard 
that  a  poet  is  necessarily  abnormal.  The  work 
of  Brahms  is  of  the  kind  to  show  that  high 
art  is  the  very  essence,  the  true  abiding-place 
of  pure  reason.  We  have  heard  too  much  of 
the  linking  of  art  and  poetry  with  irresponsible 
abandon  to  overwrought  feeling,  too  much 
dissociation  of  art  and  ethics.  It  is  time  the 
world  sees  that  the  highest  of  all,  the  most  per- 
manent, though  not  the  first  to  reach  applause, 
is  the  art  which,  yoking  profound  intellectual 
mastery  with  wealth  of  feeling,  stands  for  ful- 
ness of  experience,  held  in  rein  by  a  clear  sight 
and  a  moral  balance. 

Just  how  this  quality  appears  concretely  and 
actually  in  the  music,  we  shall  see  later  in  the 
reading  of  the  symphony.  In  general,  it  is 
by  an  almost  complete  return  to  the  mode  of 
writing  of  Bach,  except  in  the  matter  of  struc- 
tural outline.  We  remember  how,  with  the 
great  master  of  the  church  style,  music  was 
a  perfect  polyphonic  tissue  of  themal  voices. 
371 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Then  came  the  sharp  secular  reaction,  with 
pure  monophony :  a  single  melody  with  imper- 
sonal accompaniment,  of  itself  without  mean- 
ing. After  all,  there  can  be,  ideally,  little  dig- 
nity in  a  stereotyped  harmonic  figure,  however 
beautiful  the  melody. 


So  far  as  an  ideal  theory  of  music  goes, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  superiority  of  the 
church  style.  The  question  is  of  its  test  in  the 
reality  and  truth  of  its  poetic  content.  We 
saw  a  return  in  the  great  secular  masters  to 
architectural  polyphony.  But  with  all  its  gran- 
deur, it  was  not  a  permeating  element  of  their 
art,  which  was  still  based  on  the  idea  of  a  single 
melody  with  harmonic  support.  Duality  or 
plurality  of  themes  existed  merely  successively, 
or  horizontally ;  with  the  Churchmen  it  was 
simultaneous,  or  vertical.  We  saw,  too,  how 
none  of  the  secular  masters  were  affected  by 
Bach's  influence  and  example  before  Schumann, 
who  absorbed  it  far  more  than  Mendelssohn  or 
Chopin.  So  far  as  the  quality  of  style  may  be 
summed  in  a  word,  that  of  Brahms  is,  in  essence, 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

a  reconciliation  of  Bach's  mode  of  thought  with 
secular  freedom  of  outline,  that  is  well-nigh  ideal 
in  its  perfection.  It  goes,  in  this  respect,  as  far 
beyond  Schumann  as  the  latter  went  beyond 
Mendelssohn.  One  is  tempted  to  view  a  Brahms 
as  a  possible  Bach  symphony. 

Still,  one  cannot  gauge  the  artistic  value  and 
power  of  Brahms  in  proportion  to  this  twofold 
master,  however  impressive.  It  must  be,  first, 
a  question  of  the  poetic  reality.  You  cannot 
write  music  or  measure  it  by  a  theory,  however 
ideal.  A  man  may  have  a  perfect  outward 
mastery  and  lack  poetic  content ;  though  this 
is  always  found  in  imitators,  who  follow  the 
outer  manner  of  another.  Brahms  was  no  dis- 
ciple;  for  Bach  had  written  no  symphonies. 
Again,  however,  we  remember  that  in  periods 
of  formal  development  poetry  often  lagged. 
So  it  may  be  that  Brahms  has  prepared  the  way 
for  a  greater. 

Even  of  Bach  the  highest  value  seems  to  be 
an  influence  which  reaches  the  world  only 
through  the  works  of  other  masters.  So  it  may 
be  with  Brahms.  His  indirect  power  may  be 
the  greatest.  There  is  no  possible  denying  the 
nobility  of  his  aim  and  attitude  in  modern  days. 

373 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

There  is  a  modern  striving  for  unrest,  for 
cyclonic  effect,  for  barbaric  brute  force,  for 
emotion  with  a  capital  E.  All  true  sentiment 
must  be  unconscious ;  and  so  the  effect  upon 
the  hearer  must  be  unpremeditated.  You  can- 
not expect  to  see  the  emotion ;  it  must  not  be 
too  palpable.  We  must  not  be  able  to  say, 
pointing,  here  it  is ;  else  we  must  also  say,  here 
it  is  not.  We  must  not  regard  it  as  a  frenzy, 
as  some  definite,  individualized  thing.  The 
truest  emotion  is  one  which  is  most  subtle,  not 
seeking  to  trumpet  its  war-cry,  to  conquer  an 
audience  by  the  violence  of  its  noise.  On  the 
contrary,  careless  of  immediate  reception,  it  is 
the  expression  of  the  personal  feeling,  soberly 
controlled,  not  roused  to  unmanageable  excess. 
We  do  not  care  to  see  a  man  make  big  eyes 
or  roar  himself  into  a  state,  either  at  home  or 
in  the  concert. 

We  must  not  get  into  a  false  way  of  measur- 
ing emotion  by  its  brute  force.  A  work  is  not 
great  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  kettle- 
drums, as  Berlioz  seemed  to  think.  The  true 
feeling  is  .like  the  still  small  voice ;  it  is  the 
essence  of  a  great  personality  unconsciously 
betrayed  by  highest  art. 

374 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

We  recur  thus  naturally  at  our  close  to  a 
vital  point  of  the  beginning :  the  ethical  phase 
of  the  musical  art.  Many  deny  this  view  to 
art  generally.  Few  will  persist  as  to  poetry. 
It  seems  clear  that  if  we  agree  that  the  content, 
not  the  mere  language,  is  all-important,  we  must 
insist  on  its  soundness.  In  music  this  has  been 
entirely  ignored.  If  a  noble  personality  can  be 
expressed  in  music,  so  can  an  ignoble.  In 
music  as  in  poetry  it  is  possible  by  an  extrava- 
gance of  outward  beauty  to  bribe  an  audience 
to  listen  to  the  morbid,  unsound  outpourings 
of  a  weak  spirit.  This  is  another  modern 
danger.  We  listen  too  much  with  exclusive 
attention  to  the  rapturous  beauty  of  the  sound. 
We  do  not  think  of  the  ethical  quality,  nor  of 
the  ethical  effect.  If  .we  did,  we  should  give 
less  prominence  to  music,  for  example,  of  a 
Chopin.  The  question  is  all  one.  The  strong* 
sound  spirit,  like  the  true  sentiment,  is  tested 
by  thorough  mastery  of  the  art.  It  proves  the 
quality  by  its  divine  patience. 

Brahms  stands  out  strangely  cold  against  the 
intense  extremism  of  moderns.  But  the  nobility 
of  his  position  lies  in  a  classic  rebuke,  con- 
temptuously indifferent,  to  the  hysterical  men 
375 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

of  tears  and  sighs,  of  rage  and  storms,  in  his 
perfection  of  form,  in  plan  and  in  detail.  There 
is  a  giant  power,  a  reposeful  mastery  without 
strain,  without  lack  of  a  corresponding  strength 
and  breadth  of  feeling.  The  manner  of  his 
writing  is  the  result  of  his  poetic  personality ; 
the  latter  is  not  fitted  to  the  former. 

At  times  there  is  a  preponderance  of  the 
workman  over  the  poet,  as  there  was  in  Bach 
and  in  Mozart.  This  suggests  that  he  may  be 
a  Mozart  for  a  future  Beethoven.  Yet  there 
is  a  pervading  personality  in  the  originality  of 
his  melodic  thought,  and  in  the  homogeneity 
of  his  style.  He  it  is  who  has  rescued  the  art 
from  the  abuse  of  false  schools  by  following 
the  toilsome  path  which  all  masters  must  tread. 


XIII 

BRAHMS  (CONTINUED) 

Symphony  (No.  2}  in  D  Major. 

ONCE  more  let  us  strictly  carry  out  our  con- 
stant plan,  reading  the  new  master  purely  and 
absolutely  from  the  score  of  one  of  his  works, 
taken  at  random,  seeing  no  comments  on  the 
music  nor  on  the  man,  so  that  from  the  most 
perfect  evidence  we  may  get  our  impression, 
first  of  the  symphony,  then  of  the  poet.  This 
new  figure,  writing  in  the  clear  air  of  to-day, 
who  is  spoken  of  in  the  same  breath  with  Bee- 
thoven and  Schumann,  what  can  he  have  to 
say  that  is  comparable  to  their  thought  ?  And 
it  must  be  new.  To  echo  them,  even  to  add 
corollaries  to  their  truth,  would  not  make  him 
a  master. 

Our  first  sense  is  of  blended  simplicity  and 
novelty, — the  latter  what  Schumann  meant  by 
neue  Bahnen.  At  the  same  time  it  is  of  an  old 
primeval  feeling.  The  expression  is  all  new; 
the  sentiment  is  of  all  time.  But  above  all  is 

377 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


that  direct,  unaffected  simplicity  of  melody 
which  we  found  stamped  on  Beethoven  ;  the 
spontaneous  thought,  without  pretence  or  evi- 
dent effort.  The  color  is  the  mellow,  placid, 
legendary  quality  of  horns  and  fagots. 

The  very  beginning,  the  first  three  notes  in 
the  bass  are  most  unpremeditated.  Nationally, 
the  melody  is  undoubtedly  German, — that 
broad,  even  sweep,  losing  its  accent  in  the 
syncopation  of  an  endless  cadence;  an  utter- 

HORNS  AND  FAGOTS. 

Alltgro  non  troppo. 

m 


CLARIONETS.     (Doubled  above  in  Flutes.) 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

ance  of  the  ancient  Teutonic  feeling  of  Wagner 
with  the  classic  dignity  of  a  master.  It  is  not 
the  modern  romance;  there  is  in  the  placid 
horns  the  suggestion  of  the  heroic  in  repose. 

Little  is  here  of  the  vehement  contrasts  of 
the  Schumann  Romanticism.  It  is  a  calm  neo- 
classicism,  with  all  the  workmanship  of  the 
Bach  style.  There  is  an  entirely  new  poetry, 
clearer,  more  illumined,  coming  forth  from 
Romantic  caves  and  dells,  enlightened  by  the 
revelations  of  a  time  that  makes  havoc  with 
old  fancies  and  illusions.  It  is  distinctly  broader, 
yet  not  quite  with  the  humanity  of  a  Beetho- 
ven,— lacking  his  strong  morale :  more  national, 
too,  in  color  than  Beethoven,  in  spite  of  differ- 
ence in  time,  and  in  this  respect  more  special 
and  romantic.  Yet  it  has  more  than  the  mere 
German  spirit.  There  is  a  new  breath  in  its 
conventional  sentiment,  as  if  including  the 
Slavonic,  with  its  freedom  of  tone  and  rhythm. 
But  it  is  all  northern  ;  there  is  no  recovery  from 
the  reaction  against  Italian  domination.  And 
there  is  always  the  tinge  of  Hungarian  light- 
ness,— clear  against  German  heaviness. 

Soon  appears  a  melody  in  the  strings,  there- 
fore human  and  more  modern ;  the  heroic 

379 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

quality  is  suspended.  But  the  key  is  the  same  ; 
there  is  no  progress  in  tonal  residence.  It  is  all 
in  the  shadow  of  the  first  melody ;  it  is,  as  yet, 
no  new  episode. 


FLUTES. 


We  know,  however,  that  the  themes  here 
have  not  the  official  importance  they  had  in 
Haydn  and  Mozart.  Constantly  we  find  sev- 
eral melodies  where  it  is  difficult  to  decide  which 
has  the  clear  title  to  the  nominal  rank.  Often 
380 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

it  seems  that  the  function  of  the  old  second 
melody  is  divided  among  several.  There  is  one, 
strictly  second  in  succession,  contrasting  in 
character  though  not  in  key,  whose  main  busi- 
ness later  is  to  weave  about  the  first  melody,  in 
simultaneous  harmony,  the  architectural  tissue 
of  the  discussion. 

The  real  second  melody  comes  after  duly 
solemn  preparation,  down  in  cellos  and  violas. 
In  mood,  it  is  a  return  to  the  primeval  air  of  the 
main  subject,  especially  when  repeated  in  the 


STRINGS.     (Melody  in  Cellos  and  Violas.) 


r  r 


woodwind,  trebled  in  hollow  octaves.  It  is 
distinctly  the  episode  of  the  movement,  an  out- 
ing from  the  main  theme.  Though  beginning 
gently,  it  has  the  germ  of  power,  and  rousing 
with  its  plain  figure  : 

381 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


repeated  through  various  syncopation : 


it  reaches  a  climax  of  heroic  effect,  with  sharp 
and  rough  gait,  with  a  strangely  nervous  motive 


Doubled  in  Strings. 


(of  which  we  shall  speak  later),  lapsing  soon 
into  rhythmic  background  before  a  phrase  of 
slow,  even  swing : 

RHYTHMIC  CLARIONETS,  HORNS,  AND  VIOLAS. 
(  Violins,  the  second  time.) 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Violins  doubled  below. 

\ 


But  slowly  and  dimly  do  we  feel  here,  in  the 
bass,  another  phase  of  the  figure  of  the  episodic 
melody.  The  effect  is  splendid,  a  kind  of 
feudal,  heroic  pace,  well  set  and  maintained. 
It  is  like  a  crusaders'  march,  banners  fluttering 
together,  men  tramping  in  step.  Throughout 
is  the  spirit  of  Barbarossa  and  of  mediaeval 
story.  Suddenly  steals  in  the  gentle  flow  of 
the  second  melody,  now  in  serener  major, 
through  which  we  return  to  the  beginning  for 
a  rehearsal  of  melodies. 

With  Brahms  we  must  vary  a  little  our  atti- 
tude. The  infinitesimal  detail  of  this  poly- 
phonic net-work  is  such  that  the  broad  view,  as 
in  Schubert's  C  Major,  loses  too  much  of  the 
beauty,  especially  in  the  age  when  Brahms  is 
still,  to  many  of  us,  a  new  enigma.  There 
may,  too,  be  an  ulterior  purpose  with  us  to  see 
383 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

something  concrete  of  this  novel  style.  It  may 
be,  as  we  have  hinted,  that  there  is  more  of  the 
artisan  than  the  poet.  But  the  line  cannot  be 
drawn. 

In  any  case,  a  nearer  knowledge  can  but 
help.  We  must,  then,  magnify  our  view  (or 
hearing)  at  least  for  a  few  periods,  until  we  are 
accustomed  to  this  new  plan  of  highly  defined 
detail.  Indeed,  if  we  once  take  account  of  the 
workmanship,  as  such,  there  is,  I  believe,  more 
bewilderment  of  architecture  in  Brahms  than  in 
any  other  master  of  all  time.  Not  only  do  you 
have  this  pervading  unity  of  small  detail,  but  at 
the  same  time  the  broad  lines  of  the  general 
plan,  and  the  poetic  unity  of  the  whole  work. 
It  is  as  if  Brahms  had  written  his  work  once 
from  the  structural  stand-point,  and  then  had 
entirely  worked  over  the  whole,  point  by  point, 
with  minute,  almost  invisible  perfection.  It 
seems  hardly  possible  for  one  creating  mind  to 
have  at  once  this  double  sense:  one  pervading 
plan  in  the  big,  another  in  smallest  execution. 
Brahms  is  probably  far  the  greatest  example  of 
the  saying  that  genius  is  an  infinite  capacity 
for  work.  Either  kind  of  unity  would  seem 
to  suffice  even  for  our  high  standard.  Brahms 
384 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

actually  combines  both.  Yet,  in  itself,  all  this 
is  mere  workmanship.  Its  real  value  must  lie 
in  its  unconscious  use  for  utterance  of  a  poetic 
conception. 

A  few  glimpses  will  give  a  hint  of  this  per- 
vading perfection  of  detail.  To  show  it  in  full 
would  need  almost  a  description  of  every  note 
in  the  work. 

We  remember  the  innocent  little  phrase  be- 
fore the  first  melody : 


In  a  curious  way,  with  all  our  enjoyment  of 
the  melodies  and  their  structure,  the  further  we 
go,  looking  at  lesser  figures,  the  more  we  are 
magnetized  by  the  constant  reappearance  of 
this  motive  in  every  guise*  until  we  wonder 
whether  this  is  a  symphony  in  three  notes.  It 
is  as  if  in  a  house  of  larger  lines  of  beauty,  we 
caught,  at  second  and  later  views,  the  strange 
omnipresence  of  some  arabesque  curve,  of  hid- 
den meaning,  on  ceiling,  wall,  and  floor,  large 
and  small,  now  all  but  disguised. 

In  the  first  quotation  we  saw  it  creep  in,  at 
beginning  and  end,  with  least  possible  show. 
*s  385 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Throughout  the  cadence  from  the  first  melody 
we  meet  it.  In  the  long  drawn  out  chords  we 
cannot  escape  it  magnified  : 

FLUTES  AND  OBOES. 


Presently  we  see  it,  even  where  it  is  not,  as 
when  the  sun  is  in  our  eyes.  But  surely  the 
first  three  notes  of  the  second  melody  are  but  a 
quicker  pace  of  the  same  motto  ;  for  at  its  close 
the  original  tempo  appears  clearly.  And  now  it 
comes  thick  and  fast,  until  the  second  theme 
brings  a  rest.  But  the  nervous  phrase  which 


leads  the  crusaders'  march  is  again  a  shorter 
form  of  those  first  three  notes.  It  is  not  good 
to  go  farther  in  this  analysis,  which  is  too  gram- 
matical for  real  enjoyment.  We  can  now  have 
a  dim  consciousness  of  the  significance  of  the 
.186 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

master's  constant  treatment.  Of  course,  with 
him  it  was  the  mere  simplicity  and  economy  of 
highest  art.  Somehow,  it  seems,  more  con- 
sciousness is  needed  to  perceive  than  to  create. 
We  get,  too,  a  sense  of  that  strangely  firm 
power  of  sequence,  more  subtle  even  than 
Schumann's,  though  without  his  passionate  in- 
tensity. With  Brahms  it  brings  a  hidden,  yet 
strong  connection  of  distant  regions  of  the  work, 
which  is  felt  rather  than  thought.  In  a  true 
symphony  the  various  movements  reinforce 
each  other.  We  shall  find  a  light,  cast  from 
the  last  movement  upon  the  first. 

It  must  be  that  in  the  discussion  is  the  meas- 
ure of  his  genius.  But  so  complex  is  the  fine 
filigree  of  his  poetic  diction  that  one  needs 
the  elbow-room  of  a  book  to  tell  of  a  single 
work.  We  must  be  content  with  a  quicker 
and  cruder  view.  His  symphony  is  a  kind  of 
great  modern  fugue,  where  hardly  a  phrase  is 
not  a  melodic  fragment.  Brahms  has  reduced 
to  the  minimum  what  we  might  call  the  irrele- 
vant machinery,  rhythmic  and  harmonic,  as  dis- 
tinct from  melodic  text.  Yet  he  is  never  dry ; 
there  is  always  the  personal  and  poetic  quality, 
though  on  a  steady  plane,  with  few  picturesque 
387 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

heights.  One  of  the  traits  that  stamp  him  is  the 
masterly  sustaining  of  vein :  the  magnificence 
of  his  continuous  and  complete  workmanship. 
He  is  v«ry  different  from  Schumann  in  tem- 
perament ;  much  more  equable ;  less  intense. 
Wonderful  are  his  vast  Olympian  levels ;  but 
they  do  not  rise  as  high  as  Schumann's  Gothic 
peaks. 

Quickly  we  view,  after  repeated  statement, 
how  he  slowly  climbs  from  sombre  minor  of 
the  first  part  of  the  original  melody  with  steady 
insistence  to  a  glorious  march  in  the  second : 


More  than  ever  are  the  images  of  that  first 
motto,  ever  in  new  rhythmic  guise.  That  broad 
multiplicity  of  rhythm  is  new  with  Brahms. 
Then  comes  the  relief  of  the  idyllic,  flowing 
melody,  the  unofficial  second,  but  in  minor, 
answered  by  the  motto  on  high,  in  full  sway, 
almost  in  stern  rebuke,  in  its  slow  sounding  of 
388 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  first  three  notes  of  the  former.  Suddenly 
break  in  thunderous  unison  strokes  of  an  early 
phrase : 


ff  Doubled  above  and 
twite  below. 


Gradually,  after  faint  efforts,  the  first  melody 
flows  along  with  all  its  old  gentleness  and  a  new 
soothing  calm,  now  not  succeeded  but  entwined 
by  the  liquid  beauty  of  the  second.  And 


CLARIONETS  (with  lower  Horns). 
I 


CELLOS  AND  LOWER  BASSES. 

thus  we  are  in  the  last  singing  of  themes  in 
original  manner,  once  more,  too,  with  the  grand 
march  of  crusaders.  Later  is  a  burst  of  great 
sweetness  and  power  of  modulation,  followed 
by  a  most  moving  groping  through  uncertain 
worlds  of  thought.  Once  more  breaks  in  the 
389 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

light  of  main  melody,  now  in  a  new  charm  of 
berceuse  swing, — still  with  the  motto  below : 

Pin  tranqnillo.  In  STRINGS. 


There  is  a  great  tenderness  in  the  ending, — a 
flood  of  true  feeling  enshrouding  all  the  art. 

Adagio  non  Troppo. 

Bach  lovers  know  how  in  many  works  he  is 
merely  the  wonderful  workman,  until,  all  in  an 
unexpected  spot,  perhaps  all  unknown  to  him- 
self,— almost  he  seems  ashamed  of  it, — some 
true  bit  of  feeling  comes  along,  nigh  lost  in  the 
mass  of  the  other.  Something  of  this  there  is 
in  Brahms.  He  seems  to  begin  almost  indif- 
ferent to  beauty  of  theme ;  and  when  we  are 
nearly  discouraged,  in  an  unimportant  place 
suddenly  comes  the  human  song.  Brahms  is  a 
little  like  Wagner,  as  with  both  their  song 
390 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


seems  merged  into  discourse,  their  poetry  drawn 
out  into  prose.  But  with  Wagner  the  tissue  is 
too  often  iteration ;  with  Brahms  it  is  a  con- 
tinuous polyphonic  woof. 

The  melody  here  seems  to  have  the  deceptive 
quality, — a  less  promising  beginning ;  the  real 
beauty  comes  in  the  answer.  Here  in  the  third 
bar  is  that  golden  vein  of  diatonic  melody,  that 
inexhaustible  source  of  highest  lyric  utterance : 

AJagio  non  troppo. 
Downward  mclodv  In  Cellos. 


Upward  melody  in  Fagots. 
Cellos  sustained  above  in   Woodwind. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

It  is,  after  all,  the  true  natural  utterance. 
Then,  too,  it  is  that  Brahms  way  of  coming 
from  dim  uncertainty  to  clear  light. 

And  so  it  flows  on,  pure,  self-contained, 
melodic  discourse.  The  horn  takes  up  the 
thread  of  the  last  word  of  repeated  theme,  the 
rest  join  successively.  You  do  not  think  of  the 
fugue,  but  they  are  all  talking,  beginning  in 
turn  on  the  same  subject.  When  the  discussion 
is  becoming  technical,  all  are  set  at  peace  with 
that  same  altogether  satisfying  ending  of  the 
first  melody  (quoted  above),  just  like  the  kindest 
word  of  wisest  parent. 

A  curious  Adagio  quality  this  of  Brahms.  It 
is  similar  to  that  rare  vein  of  Beethoven  that  we 
prized  most.  Brahms  has  not  quite  his  deep 
sympathy.  He  is  more  impersonal,  like  Schu- 
bert. There  is  something  of  German  folk-song 
here ;  but  it  seems  broader,  more  ancient  in 
source,  almost  Pagan.  There  is  much  of 
modern  feeling  for  Teutonic  legend.  But  the 
conception  is  higher  and  finer  than  most  of 
such  poetry. 

A  new  verse  comes  now ;  hardly  a  clear-cut 
melody.  Curiously,  it  has  exactly  the  nature 
of  the  first.  Beginning  in  a  questioning  mood, 
392 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

it  grows  more  anxious,  and  then  is  stilled  by 
another  broad,  soothing  cadence  : 

VIOLINS,  VIOLAS,  AND  CELLOS. 


Once  more  the  questioning,  grubbing  spirit 
is  roused,  rearing  now  a  stormy  whirl  of  rebel- 
lious doubts.  He  is  laid  by  a  last,  calm,  broad 
verse  of  the  main  song. 

Allegretto  Grazioso  (Quasi  Andantino). 

In  Andantes  there  is  a  new  Brahms.  Archi- 
tectural depth  must  yield  there  to  lyric  direct- 

393 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


ness.  In  the  slow  movement  is  the  true  poet 
who  shows  that  German  folk-song  is  not  ex- 
hausted, as  he  does  elsewhere  in  his  glorious 
Lieder;  that  it  has  new  strains,  which  come  from 
the  border-land  of  newer  races.  In  these  song- 
movements  is  tested  the  sentiment  of  the  poet ; 
in  the  Allegros,  the  broad  view  and  structural 
power. 

In  the  Scherzos  there  is  a  second  departure, 
almost  as  great  as  in  the  first.  The  humor  of 
Brahms  seems  largely  an  expression  of  Hun- 
garian lightness.  There  is  complete  absence 
of  polyphony.  He  begins  with  child-like 
dance  with  odd  accent : 


Allegretto  gratioso  (Quasi  andantino}. 


^'CELLOS. 

There  is  much,  too,  of  Tyrolese  drollery. 


It 


is  all  a  jolly  bourgeois,  not  to  say  peasant  fun. 
There  is  none  of  the  serious  humor  of  Beetho= 
ven.  Yet  we  do  not  mean  at  all  that  it  does 

394 


SYiMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

not  belong  as  justly  in  the  symphony.  Such 
prohibition  would  be  intolerable.  A  symphony 
even  can  bear  no  philosophic  intent,  unless  it 
be  quite  unconscious.  In  the  lightness  of 
Brahms's  pleasant  frolic  there  is  much  real 
poetry-. 

The  humor  is  in  all  kinds  of  smallest  touches ; 
sometimes  it  is  a  teasing  play  of  voices ;  at 
others,  of  groups  of  instruments, — a  humor  of 
orchestration.  You  would  not  catch  it  in  a 
piano  arrangement,  as  there  are  sudden  modula- 
tions or  surprises  of  accent.  From  the  dainty 
waltz  melody  of  the  beginning  there  darts  out 
a  queer,  quick  dance  in  even  time : 

Presto  ma  tion  assai. 
VIOLINS,  VIOLAS,  AND  CELLOS. 


It  is,  of  course,  a  prank  at  masquerading  the 
first  tune.  Some  touches  defy  telling.  Right 
here,  in  the  next  bar,  the  strings  try  to  run  off  to 

395 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

another  key,  another  play-ground.  The  wood 
won't  let  them.  The  strings  urge,  the  wood 
refuse.  Then  they  run  off  and  for  a  moment 
play  strutting  soldiers.  But  it  is  all  too  light 
for  heavy  words.  On  returning,  the  first  waltz- 
like  dance  has  a  new,  delicate  pathos,  where  a 
second  voice  discourses  sweetly  in  flowing 
measure  fitted  to  the  slow  glide  of  the  theme. 

A  rough  bit  of  barbaric  play  interrupts  in 
reckless  Presto.  It  jangles  in  our  Western 
ears.  We  lose  our  sense  of  tonal  bearings,  and 
are  glad  to  return  once  more  to  the  gentler  pace 
of  the  German  dance. 

Allegro  con  Spirito. 

In  the  Finale  is  undoubtedly  the  historic 
color  and  the  mediaeval  swing  of  the  beginning. 
With  all  the  danger  of  finding  fixed  meanings, 
there  is  no  doubt  of  this,  that  Brahms,  of  course, 
all  unconscious  in  the  creating,  stands  in  the 
highest  branch  of  the  highest  art  for  that  modern 
return  to  the  spirit  of  Teuton  legend  which  has 
a  strange  power  over  our  minds  to-day,  which 
has  been  almost  a  dominant  poetic  subject  of 
the  century.  With  Brahms  it  has  a  great  breadth. 
He  had  much  of  the  Ossian  feeling.  Undoubt- 
396 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

edly  his  geographical  position  helped  him.  Born 
in  the  farthest  north  of  Germany,  he  visited  the 
South,  and  settled  and  died  in  the  far  East. 

If  we  are  asked  to  show  evidence  of  this 
theme  in  Brahms's  poetry,  we  may  be  helpless 
in  a  legal  sense.  To  our  own  conviction  appeals 
most  the  very  quality  of  the  melodies,  which, 
instead  of  modern  romantic  sweetness,  have  a 
distinctive  rough  breadth,  and  a  strangeness 
which  cannot  speak  of  modem  things.  Sim- 
plicity is,  of  course,  of  all  ages ;  therefore,  at 
the  least,  it  does  not  jar  on  an  archaic  feeling. 
It  is  strange  that  with  a  similar  breadth  in 
Brahms  and  in  Beethoven,  we  think  of  the 
latter  as  looking  forward ;  in  the  former  only 
do  we  feel  the  historic  spirit.  The  truth  is, 
these  periods  differ  totally.  There  was  no  retro- 
spection early  in  the  century.  It  was  all  for 
new  ideas  and  ideals.  To-day  there  is  a  con- 
stant longing  for  the  sanctity  of  old  concep- 
tions. The  modern  is  the  practical  and  stereo- 
typed ;  in  the  ancient  lies  the  poetic  truth. 
Brahms  realizes  to  the  full  this  feeling.  He  is, 
thus,  representative  of  his  age ;  his  was  in  pure 
music  the  unconscious  impulse  that  drove 
Tennyson  to  the  King's  Idylls  and  Wagner  to 

397 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


the  Nibelungen  Epic  ;  and  this  is  the  burden 
of  the  symphony. 

The  first  melody  enters  in  bleak  unison  of 
all  the  strings  : 


Allegro  con  spirito.   STRINGS. 


BASSES  an  octave  below. 


In  its  stiffness,  its  set,  cramped  energy,  it  has 
the  feudal  feeling  of  the  first  Allegro.  When 
the  melody  has  a  learned  counter-theme,  the 
atmosphere  is  more  monastic.  It  has  much  of 

398 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

complexity  and  close  texture.   But  it  is  bubbling 
with  melody  and  rhythm. 

We  soon  find  that,  strangely,  the  first  four 
notes  correspond,  as  motto,  to  that  of  the  first 
movement.  We  do  not  know  whether  we 
ought  to  notice  that  the  first  three  notes  are  in 
both  movements  the  same.  So  we  have  every- 
where, in  all  sorts  of  garb,  this  phrase : 

Ag j 


Through  a  misty  change  of  scene  we  are  led 
to  the  second  melody,  which  is  surely  one  of 


Largamente.    STRINGS. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  simple,  diatonic  kind.  Still,  the  motto  is 
ever  present. 

With  smooth,  sweeping  flight  it  lightly  wings 
aloft  in  successive  curves  into  a  climax  of  power 
that  did  not  seem  to  lie  in  the  germ  of  the  theme. 
Now  the  motto  has  all  the  say,  and  there  is  a 
great  rollicking  of  pairs  of  voices,  each  in  duet, 
in  the  same  motive  coursing  all  about,  losing 
all  rein  of  regular  pace,  at  last  quieting  down 
to  the  first  melody. 

The  answer  of  the  latter  at  the  very  begin- 
ning we  cannot  ignore.  It  has  a  certain  ancient 
humor,  sung  as  it  is  in  barbaric  unison,  again  and 
again,  like  some  well-seasoned  popular  strain : 

Strings,  doubled  below  in  Fagots  and  Cellos. 

T    J        i        I        !     i     i     i        ^ 


r  '   LLI7  tf 


Basses  sustaining  low  A. 

As  now  the  main  melody  is  discussed  in 
fragmentary  perversions,  this  old  refrain  ever 
comes  in  with  conclusive  air,  is  even  sung 
fugally.  But  it  serves  later  to  give  one  of  the 
rarest  touches  of  primeval  humor  of  the  sym- 
400 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


phony.  For  when  at  last  the  final  chant  of 
melodies  has  begun,  as  at  first,  and  we  look 
above  wondering,  here  is  a  strange  sound  from 
the  basses  upward,  —  the  inverted  disguise  of  the 
comic  answering  strain  : 


In  Strings,  doubled  above  and  below. 

-* 


J 


M^MM 
* 


And  now  we  are  rolling  towards  the  end,  the 
first  song  of  melodies  fuller  and  more  boisterous. 
There  is  always  the  same  feeling  of  march  of 
pious  knights.  And  there  are  many  touches 
of  the  kinship  of  the  main  themes  of  first  and 
last  movement.  For  instance,  a  sudden  quiet 
retreat  (which  is  written  Tranquillo  in  the  score), 
seems  at  first  new  with  its  strange,  slow  swing 
in  four-voiced  woodwind : 

Tranquillo. 

WOODWIND,  melody  doubled  above  in  Flutes. 
(Echo  in  STRINGS.) 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Now,  this  is,  of  course,  primarily  and  poeti- 
cally a  romantic  refuge  from  the  din  of  strife. 
But  in  its  melodic  origin  it  comes  not  only 
from  the  first  melody  of  the  finale,  but  most 
clearly  from  the  very  motto  of  the  original 
movement.  It  is,  indeed,  a  melody  in  this  very 
motto,  pure  and  simple. 

Strictly,  we  have  here  gone  back,  for  a  mo- 
ment, before  the  reprise  of  melodies.  Return- 
ing, after  the  final  rollicking  episode,  there  is  a 
quaint  droning  of  monks'  fugue,  in  second 
melody,  sung  in  pairs : 

WOODWIND,  doubled  above. 


STRINGS,  leggiero. 

This  broadens  into  a  march  of  big  idea  and 
spirit,  with  complex  swing,  whence  suddenly  we 
are  again  in  the  timid  Tranquillo,  now  the  sec- 
ond legend  droning  in  the  bass  : 
402 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

STRINGS  (Horns  sustaining  harmonic  tones). 


-I — r-hzi^ 


P  cresc. 


BASS  an  octave  below. 


Of  course,  this  has  the  promise  of  power. 
And  so  the  end  comes  in  a  martial  burst  with 
rapid  iteration  of  this  phrase  from  the  second 
melody. 

Brahms  may  have  appeared  to  us,  in  all  this, 
as  composer  rather  than  as  poet.  He  is,  per- 
haps, too  near  to  see  the  big  lines.  He  is,  too, 
a  recurrence  of  the  simplicity  of  earliest  mas- 
ters. We  must  not  expect  romantic  definite- 
ness.  But  the  unity  of  message  is  as  clear  as 
with  any  poet.  Finally,  he  may  be  the  pioneer 
of  greater  poetry  in  the  paths  he  has  broken. 


403 


INDEX 

Andante,  32,  45,  49. 

Art:   Purpose,  14,  19,  30,  68-9;  limitations,  30;  mode  of  creation, 
249,  347.     See  also  Preface. 

Bach,  24,  26,  34,  36-7,  40,  70,  93,  177,  260  tt  sej.t  ZJl,  367  et 

uj. 

Beauty,  95,  96,  97,  313. 
Beethoven,  14,  19,  32-3,  45-6,  69,  71,  76-7,  82,  85,  Chaps.  V.-VL, 

177-183,  186,  189-90,  194,  201,  226-7,  268-70,  364-. 
Berlioz,  100,  127,  163,  170,  251,  268. 
Brahms,  76,  102,  125,  129,  179,  252. 

Church  school  (of  composition),  24-27,  31,  34-5,  44-5,  71,  371. 
Classicism.      (See  Romanticism.) 

Counterpoint  (see  Polyphony),  25,  35,  75,  79,  91,  265. 
Criticism,  13  et  sey'.t  22,  342. 

Dance  (see  Minuet,  Scherzo),  26,  34,  36-8. 

Development,  38  et  sey.,  49,  75-6,  92,  94-5,  130,  134,  153. 

Durchfuhrung.      (See  Development.) 

Ethics  (in  Music),  Preface,  20  et  seq.,  192,  371  st  seq. 

Folk-Song  (see  National  Element),  49,  190,  191,  359. 
Form,  95,  98,  192,  250  et  sej.\  343  et  sea.^  350  et  scq. 
Fugue,  42,  54,  58. 

Goethe,  72,  128,  182-3,  189-91, 

405 


INDEX 

Handel,  44. 

Haydn,  30,  32,  Chap.  III.,  70-2,  83-4,  95-6,  125,  129,  147,  153, 

226. 
Humor  (in  Music),  30,  59,  70,  82,  104,  167  et  tey.t  225  et  icy.,  322, 

338-9,  364. 

Interpretation,  333-4. 

Jean  Paul  Richter,  258  et  icy. 

Language.     (See  Prose.) 
Listening,  Chap.  I.,  152,  347-8. 
Logic  (in  Music).     See  Sequence. 

Master  (Mastery),  249  et  ley.,  342  et  sty.,  350,  369  et  sey. 
Meaning  (in  Music),  17,  96,  98-9,   100-1,  125  et  tey  ,  148  et  tey  , 
154-5,  167  et  ley.,  249  et  ley.,  270  et  ley.,  278,  308,  310  et  sey., 

33°>  333-34,  344  <"<? • 

Mendelssohn,  79,  155,  170,  185,  210,  252,  263,  265-6,  Chap.  XI. 
Metaphysics  (in  Music),  134-5,  146,  177,  182,  270  */  sey.,  289-299. 
Minuet  (see  Dance,  Scherzo),  38,  51,  60,  80,  89,  152  et  sey. 
Modulation,  104. 
Mozart,  32,  43,  45-6,  Chap.  IV.,  95-6,   125,   130,   153,  178-9, 

181,  185,  190,  313. 
Music  (see   Art,   Meaning,  Symphony,  Master):    Essence,  18,  99; 

limitations,   127,   310  et  icy.;   power  and   purpose,   153  et  sey., 

33°""?-.  345- 

National  Element  (in  Music)  (see  Folk-Song),  182,  189,  209,  309, 
322  etiey.,  327,  331,  341. 

Opera,  127,  188,  190,  251,  262. 
Orchestra,  44,  349. 
Overture,  349. 

406 


INDEX 

Pathos  (in  Music),  55,  161-2,  181 

Poetry,  37-8,  191,  330. 

Polyphony  (see  Counterpoint),  48,  66,  266. 

Programme  Music.      (See  Meaning.) 

Prose  (see  Language),  30,  39,  127,  155,  260,  345. 

Romanticism,  69,  182  et  sc<j.,  270  et  seq.,  303,  366  et  KJ. 
Rondo,  33,  37,  53. 

Scarlatti,  Domenico,  36-7  5    Alessandro,  36. 

Scherzo,  50,  152  et  seq.,  163,  167. 

Schiller,  98,  123,  182. 

Schubert,  66-7,  73,  93,  135-6,  161,  270,  352. 

Schumann,  94,   126,  179,  207,  211,  217,  Chaps.  VIII. -IX..   6^-9, 

35rt  353- 

Scotch  Symphony,  354. 
Sequence,  315-16,  345  et  seq. 
Sonata,  24—29,  71,  and,  generally,  Chap.  II.  ;   sonata  form,  32-4,  38 

et  sf?.,  53,  103;   purpose,  31,  73,  75-6. 
Symphony:   Purpose  and  Meaning  (see,  also,  Meaning),  Chap.   II., 

42-3,  45,  98,  101,  308-9;   kinds  of  symphonies,  148,  310. 

Thought  (in  Musk),  344  et  sej. 
Tonality,  37,  40. 

Wagner,  100,  269. 
Weber,  183-5,  189-90. 


407 


GREAT  WORKS 

OF 

MUSIC 


Volume  Two 
CLASSIC  SYMPHONIES 


PREFATORY 

THIS  book  completes  the  whole  survey  of 
classic  symphonies.  The  aim  of  the  first 
volume  was  to  find  the  mystery  of  symphonies. 
— not  here,  nor  there,  but  ot  the  ideal  type ;  to 
see  what  tonal  meaning  really  means,  and,  quite 
as  clearly,  what  it  does  not  mean.  The  quaint 
contusion  ever  will  intrude  that  only  that  is  defi- 
nite that  finds  a  term  in  common  speech.  And 
so  the  lay-world  seldom  dreams  that  music,  pure 
and  simple,  in  highest  form  of  art,  will  tell  a 
message  clearer  far  and  richer,  nobler  and  more 
human,  too  (in  its  own  field),  than  one  may 
hope  of  prose  or  even  verse. 

In  this  design  the  special  symphonies  described 
were  the  mere  proof  and  evidence.  A  later 
thought,  helped  by  the  kind  response  to  the  first 
volume,  was  to  test  these  hidden  truths  in  other 
classic  symphonies  that  varied  in  their  plan  and 
quality,  and  lastly  to  survey  the  whole  field  of 
the  great  tonal  works  of  art. 


PREFATORY 

In  thus  returning  to  the  earlier  masters,  the 
third  of"  Mozart's  group  of  masterworks  re- 
mained to  be  included.  With  Haydn  the 
problem  is  a  special  one.  The  long  list  of  his 
symphonies  implies  two  consequences,  really  two 
in  one.  First,  they  are  all  much  alike  in  inner 
content, — in  that  which  here  is  sought  to  bring 
to  clearer  light.  Then,  for  the  same  reason,  this 
very  message  is  a  lesser  one,  does  not  so  well 
invite  or  quite  deserve,  nor  does  it  surely  need 
the  verbal  sketch.  The  aim  was  to  amuse  and 
cheer  in  highest  sense.  While  they  do  cheer, 
each  in  a  novel  way,  they  do  not  vary  in  signifi- 
cant degree  within  the  original  mood  of  merry 
humor. 

Of  Beethoven's  symphonies  all  are  here  dis- 
cussed except  the  three  of  volume  one.  The 
question  there  must  face  us  of  Beethoven's 
earlier  art, — the  true  degree  of  independence,  the 
share  of  Mozart  (and  of  Haydn)  in  the 
younger  master's  thought.  And  this  must  touch 
the  other  problem,  ever  rising  new  to  view,  of 
highest  rank. 

In  face  of  warning  proverb  of  odious  com- 
parisons, there  are  some  questions  that  will  never 
down.  You  cannot  cure  the  world  of  having 


PREFATORY 

its  greatest — poet  or  soldier.  It  does  not  want  a 
democracy  of  genius ;  it  tends,  however  wrong, 
to  feel  with  Odysseus  :  "  One  must  be  foremost." 
The  later  Beethoven  compels  two  subjects  of 
profoundest  interest  and  moment,  where  reason- 
ing may  well  confirm  the  test  of  great  experi- 
ment. In  the  "  Pastoral"  we  wonder  at  the 
bounds  ot  tonal  art,  in  actual  graphic  copying 
of  nature ;  in  the  Ninth  we  are  aroused  to  take 
sides  as  to  the  highest  ultimate  effect  of  instru- 
ments alone,  or  of  joint  orchestra  and  chorus. 

The  works  of  Raff  bring  a  new  phase  of 
titled  symphonies ;  and  here  the  "  Scotch"  of 
Mendelssohn  belongs.  And  so  the  whole  field 
of  programme  music  opened  forth  with  Berlioz's 
Fantastic  Symphony,  the  literal  story  of  an 
artist's  woes.  Liszt's  "  Faust"  must  show  the 
touches  of  the  great  dramatic  school :  Tschai- 
kowsky's  Pathetique  is  here  in  line  of  clear 
descent.  At  the  same  time,  the  symphonies  of 
Schumann  and  of  Brahms  preserved  the  stand- 
ard of  highest  tonal  epic,  of  pure  subjective 
quality. 

The  raging  quarrel  of  the  two  great  modern 
schools  can  somehow  not  be  all  ignored.  There 
the  new  word  of  latest  instrumental  poet 


PREFATORY 

must  surely  shed  a  ray  of  brilliant  light  on 
coming  lines.  And  so,  though  Richard  Strauss 
has  not  as  yet  chosen  the  strict  symphony,  his 
broadest,  latest  work,  Ein  Heldenleben,  could 
not  be  resisted. 

At  this  point  came  a  certain  strong  desire  to 
include  in  all  this  view  each  individual  symphony 
that  has  uttered  its  new  note  of  sincere  poetic 
message.  As  there  must  doubtless  be  dispute 
in  such  a  list  of  those  composers  whose  final 
laurels  are  not  yet  secure,  at  least  one  work  of 
each  is  treated.  So,  in  appended  note,  Gade 
and  Goetz  disclose  a  narrower  vein,  though  still 
of  truest  art.  The  charming  "  Country  Wed- 
ding" of  Goldmark  shows  well  the  limits  of  the 
symphony.  Another  work,  by  Gilchrist,  is  an 
instance  of  the  form  transplanted  in  a  newer  field.* 

The  description  is  really  all  symbolic,  and 
must  be  taken  is  such,  for  any  value  whatever. 
We  might,  in  a  sense,  have  printed  in  the  inside 
of  our  book  on  the  meaning  of  symphonies, — 

*  There  is  a  group  of  American  symphonies,  by  such 
composers  as  Paine  and  Chadwick,  that  would  well  repay  an 
exposition.  Lack  of  space  forbids  the  choice  of  more  than 
one. 

x 


PREFATORY 

nothing.  It  would  be  true  in  a  way.  Music 
means  nothing  that  can  definitely  be  put  in 
words.  It  means  so  much  to  the  musician, 
indeed  it  seems  often  to  hold  all  truth,  that  he 
could  talk  about  it  indefinitely  in  more  than  one 
sense. 

And  it  is  certainly  worth  helping  others  to  the 
same  joy  of  intelligence,  even  though  he  can 
only  eagerly  point  to  the  glorious  beauties, 
anxious  for  responsive  agreement,  as  at  sight  of 
fleeting  clouds  in  waning  light  of  sunset  one 
would  catch  at  this  figure  and  that  to  fix  it  to 
the  eye  of  a  friend.  So  if  ordered  beauty  as 
well  as  delight  of  golden  touches  can  be  brought 
in  some  measure  to  fellow  ears  and  minds,  it  will 
be  the  main  object, — at  least  of  the  descriptions. 

But,  somehow,  there  is  a  little  more  than  mere 
chance  imagery ;  for  there  is  real  truth  in  the 
symbolism  of  the  moral  strife  of  individual,  of 
debate  and  dispute,  drawing  truth  from  the 
dregs,  rising  to  final  enlightenment.  Every 
phase  of  life  is  here  idealized.  Again,  the  sym- 
bol has  real  truth.  Beauty,  strength,  each  have 
their  figures.  The  moral,  not  the  external  life 
of  man  finds  in  music  its  full  pfay  and  mirror. 
The  true  essence  of  life  is  in  its  emotions,  and 


PREFATORY 

these  play  in  tones  as  do  fish  in  the  waters.  The 
highest  problems  are  ethical,  emotional,  of  ex- 
perience; science  is  but  a  lesser  helpmeet.  In 
music  their  utterance  is  so  real  that  they  seem 
.to  be  there  themselves  in  the  life  of  the  tonal 
stream. 

Given  the  type  of  pleading,  of  defiance,  of 
plaint,  of  dim  foreboding  akin  to  objective  omen, 
of  prayerful  trust,  of  triumphant  joy, — given  all 
these,  together  with  the  full  play  of  dispute  and 
strife, — and  you  have  all  the  resources,  unconscious 
and  therefore  the  more  genuine  and  convincing, 
for  the  utterance  of  man's  most  vital  thought. 
So  you  have  in  the  Fifth  Symphony  actually  as 
stirring  a  refrain  of  the  same  high  truth  as  in  the 
book  of  Job. 

The  elements  of  rhythm,  pace,  and  melody, 
of  single  song  and  polyphonic  or  mere  hymnal 
chorus,  the  lesser,  of  orchestral  color,  are  all 
quickly  caught ;  they  need  no  technical  account. 
Even  the  element  of  form,  the  highest  in  the 
mastery  of  the  art,  can  be  suggested  in  recur- 
rence of  the  themes.  One  phase  there  is  that 
seems  more  difficult  to  show  in  direct  meaning. 
The  schoolmen  call  it  modulation,  the  change 
of  tonality.  The  latter  we  have  agreed  is  scene 


PREFATORY 

or  tonal  residence.  The  key  may  thus  be  said 
in  simplest  truth  to  be  the  home  of  a  tune, — 
where  it  begins  and  ends,  whence  it  may  wander 
for  a  long  or  shorter  journey.  It  were,  indeed, 
idle  to  speak  of  tunes  or  lesser  figures  without 
this  sense  of  residence.  They  would  be  as 
shadowy  as  the  spirits  of  the  unreal  world.  It  is 
the  tonal  color  that  gives  the  living  hue. 

If  a  key  is  the  home  of  a  tune,  what  then  is 
the  grateful  change  ?  Whether  you  regard  your- 
self as  going  about  subjectively,  wandering  tonally 
from  scene  to  scene  with  conclusion  in  each,  re- 
turning finally  home  to  the  first,  or  whether  you 
are  resting  and  it  all  passes  before  you,  is  of  no 
moment  of  difference.  If  we  were  to  sit  still 
and  have  the  planets  fly  past  us,  it  would  be  as 
much  of  a  journey  as  if  we  were  flying  our- 
selves. In  any  case  we  are  taking  a  tonal  jour- 
ney ;  that  is  as  near  the  true  state  as  a  symbol 
will  take  us.  All  the  motion  is  there  of  voyage, 
— all  the  incident,  main  and  lesser,  of  the 
change. 

So  a  modulation  is  literally  change  of  scene, 
and  it  may  be  graded  or  sudden,  as  in  wandering 
through  a  plain  or  over  a  mountain.  Indeed, 
the  quick  surprise  of  new  turn  of  view  is  just 


PREFATORY 

the  same  sort  of  pleasure  as  the  charm  of  sudden 
shift  of  key.  The  symbol  for  us  will  be  our 
own  journey,  or  of  picture  moving  before  our 
eyes.  We  may  even  leave  quite  vague  the 
figure  each  one  chooses  for  himself.  But  we 
shall  hope  for  ready  response  of  the  reader  with- 
out need  of  literal  fulness. 

Suppose  the  symbol  is  of  action,  what  then 
of  the  key?  Where  the  first  theme  is  type  of 
energy,  the  second  may  be  of  passive  apprehen- 
sion, the  state  of  joyous  perception ;  in  any  case, 
under  whatever  guise,  you  must  have  a  dual 
quality,  not  merely  of  tune  but  of  tone.  Con- 
trast there  must  be  in  outer  garb  and  colors  as 
well  as  in  actual  lineaments  of  theme.  Else,  if 
the  second  follows  in  the  same  tone,  there  is  no 
progress,  no  relation,  no  sequence,  no  contrast. 
One  is  mere  continuation  of  the  other,  like  a 
building  all  in  one  dimension.  One  figure  be- 
longs in  one  line  and  light,  the  second  in  another. 
The  tonal  color  of  melodic  subjects  is  one  of 
the  main  elements  of  musical  enjoyment ;  it 
marks  the  difference  of  old  fugue  and  new 
earthly  sonata.  What  the  tunes  stand  for,  what 
they  do,  where  they  are  aiming,  none  of  it  is 
more  important  than  where  they  come  fiom 


PREFATORY 

tonally,  in  what  tonal  quarter  do  they  sing,  what 
is  the  change  of  tonal  scene  from  one  tune  to 
the  other.  It  may,  to  be  sure,  be  possible  to 
stress  too  far  this  matter  of  the  scene  or  light. 
It  is  the  nearest  word  that  comes  for  the  idea. 
There  may  be  a  better  that  may  fit  in  certain 
other  symbols  of  the  whole. 

In  all  the  discussion  of  the  meaning  and 
potency  of  musical  works  of  art  this  cannot  be 
lost  It  is  of  first  moment,  though  so  intimate 
a  matter  that  it  is  hard  to  separate  from  the 
nature  of  the  melody  itself.  In  the  symbols  of 
scene  or  journey  it  is  all  clear  enough,  and  needs 
no  further  light.  In  the  profounder  figures  of 
actual  or  moral  struggle  the  matter  is  deeper  and 
more  difficult ;  it  cannot  be  dismissed  so  easily. 
In  any  case  the  tonal  shift  serves  as  in  lighter 
symbols  to  mark  the  change.  Change  there 
must  be  in  garb,  guise,  point  of  entrance ;  in 
strife  there  is  the  more  need  of  opposite  direc- 
tions in  the  fighters,  complete  separation  of  resi- 
dence, even  of  origin.  So  the  change  may  ap- 
proach almost  to  realism  of  stage  shifting,  so  as 
to  give  the  new  direction.  The  villain  must  enter 
on  the  other  side. 

But  the  music  must  show  it  all.    Nevertheless 


PREFATORY 

in  all  symbols  it  will  be  yielded  that  tone  or  key 
stands  ever  for  residence  ;  carried  to  mathematics, 
for  orientation  or  location.  So  whether  tunes 
are  lines  of  picture,  or  the  traveller  himself  is 
moving  about  making  his  own  scenes,  or  whether 
they  are  types  of  action  and  of  strife,  they  must 
have  each  their  quarter  where  they  dwell,  whence 
they  emerge  and  advance.  For  music  is  a  very 
real  sort  of  human  process.  It  is  no  shadowy, 
abstract  allegory.  It  is  all  genuine,  real  existence 
and  enjoyment.  These  musical  figures  must 
have  their  entity,  their  real  being,  and  so  their 
place.  Further,  music  is  all  astir  with  living, 
thrilling  beauty  that  ever  transcends.  So  this 
residence  is  not  of  mathematics  or  topography, 
but  rich  in  color, — beauty  is  again  its  main 
designation.  And  thus,  as  every  bit  of  music  has 
a  home  where  it  begins  and  where  it  ends,  every 
melodic  figure  has  its  own  nook  or  niche,  and 
every  idea,  of  whatever  symbolic  guise,  has  its 
own  tonal  vine  and  fig-tree. 

The  best  excuse,  it  must  be  here  admitted,  for 
treating  more  than  one  of  the  included  sympho- 
nies, was  their  strong  evidence,  in  converse  proof, 
by  negative  example.  There  is  no  truth  more 


PREFATORY 

urgently  to  be  proclaimed  than  the  absolute  con- 
nection between  a  clear  and  honest  art  and  a 
high  moral  tone.  Here  music  can  be  shown  to 
be  the  truest  record  of  man's  best  intuition ;  thus 
it  becomes  the  strongest  power  for  moral  incul- 
cation. And  so  the  author,  with  all  desire  to  give 
a  fair  account  of  every  work,  can  somehow  not 
restrain  the  hope  that  the  reader  will  subtly  feel 
how,  where  the  whole  poem  lacks  in  true  organic 
growth,  the  strong  pervading  moral  tone  is  ab- 
sent, the  impulse  of  display,  of  less  sincere  poetic 
message,  finds  a  special  channel.  For  here  we 
see  most  clearly  how  the  pure  type  of  symphony 
has  won  pre-eminence  of  all  the  forms  as  the 
evangel  of  the  highest  truth. 

No  doubt  there  is  most  gain  in  positive  ap- 
proval. Disparaging  attacks  are  on  much  lower 
plane.  Ring  out  the  praise  of  all  the  best  in  the 
world,  and  that  which  stands  opposed,  must  meet 
its  own  deserved  fate,  by  its  own  force,  that  needs 
no  outer  aid. 

And  yet  no  other  field  ot  human  intellect,  not 
all  dramatic  poetry  nor  varying  lines  of  other 
arts  do  seem  to  hold  so  tense  a  moment  and 
concern  as  just  this  double  question :  the  mean- 
ing of  the  greatest  tonal  works,  as  it  has  worked 


PREFATORY 

ks  own  solution  through  the  century  just  passed, 
and  as  it  must  prove  in  that  which  has  begun. 
For  music  is  the  art  of  latest  age ;  it  is  the  pres- 
ent self-expression  of  the  race,  the  only  channel 
where  a  creative  vein  runs  still  unchecked. 

But  music  has  a  double  power  not  merely  for 
the  good.  The  quality  that  brings  the  message 
home  in  warmest  living  tones  may  easily  run  riot 
in  sensuous  effect  or  meretricious  sentiment. 
And  so  the  question,  What  is  good  and  what  is 
permanently  great  ?  yields  to  no  other  in  ulti- 
mate importance.  It  must  affect  the  whole 
thought  and  ethics  of  the  race.  It  has  a  greater 
urgency  than  the  latest  problems  of  theology. 
For  here,  in  music,  seems  to  lie  the  true  creed 
and  religion  that  has  a  common  language  clear 
to  all 


xviii 


I 

MOZART'S  SYMPHONY  IN 
E  FLAT 

IT  is  ever  an  old  question,  like  that  of  the  lost 
tribes  of  Israel,  and  some  others  that  are  never 
settled,  on  which  the  world's  judgment  stays 
poised.  There  are  always  people  who  believe 
that  Mozart  reached  an  absolute  pinnacle  of 
Parnassus,- — that  Beethoven  marked  a  descent. 
The  problem  is  incapable  of  solution.  Both 
views  are  true,  in  a  way.  One  thing  is  certain  : 
every  man  has  a  right,  in  more  than  legal  sense, 
to  think  Mozart  the  greatest.  Von  Ambros, 
prince  of  historians,  says  of  the  group  of  Mo- 
zart's symphonies  in  C,  E  Flat,  and  G  Minor  : 
"  They  are  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  art."  Thus  it 
becomes  a  question  whether  there  was  more  gain 
or  loss  in  a  dominance  of  the  emotional  over  the 
purely  aesthetic.  It  may  belong  to  the  dualism 
of  human  things  that  both  have  their  opposite, 
correlative,  eternal  positions ;  that  each  must  come 
in  its  phase  ;  that  each  is  greatest  in  independence. 
One  is  inclined  to  think  that  you  cannot  com* 
13 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY    IN    E    FLAT 

pare  Mozart  and  Beethoven  any  more  than  a 
lake  and  a  mountain.  One  turns  from  the 
cold,  smooth  perfection  of  the  elder  with  eager- 
ness to  the  fire  and  wealth  of  sympathy  of  the 
younger  master,  and  again  from  the  wild,  ruthless 
abandon  and  harshness  of  the  latter  with  delight 
to  the  sane  serenity  and  limpid  art  of  the  former. 
Perhaps  each  is  needed  in  his  time.  Perhaps  it 
were  a  better  world  if  there  were  no  cause  for 
the  fiery  wrath  of  a  Beethoven, — a  perpetual 
Nirvana,  where  Mozart  sings  the  theme  of  con- 
stant blessedness.  But  then,  we  might  say,'  a 
world  without  the  stress  of  moral  strife  very  like 
is  no  world  at  all, — a  state  of  non-existence.  The 
chief  business  of  the  world,  after  all.  is  the  moral 
strife  and  onward,  upward  course  :  we  know  no 
other  and  conceive  of  none.  The  angelic  note 
of  eternal  praise  fails  of  sustaining  interest,  sug- 
gests a  lack  of  dignity,  a  somewhat  pointless  task 
for  all  the  ages. 

Of  such  a  world  of  moral  strife  Beethoven  is 
the  great  prophet ;  he  is,  therefore,  the  most 
human  of  all  the  tone  poets. 

But  ought  there  to  be  a  content  at  all '?  Is  it 
a  lowering  of  pure  art  when  that  begins"?  There 
is  no  reason  for  this  fear.  For,  if  the  poet  is  not 

'4 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY   IN   E   FLAT 

self-conscious  in  his  special  mood,  absorption  and 
concentration  are  more  perfect.  The  beauty  is 
used  as  means.  There  is  less  of  material  enjoy- 
ment. A  wonderful  wedding  of  joy  and  truth  is 
this  of  art.  To  be  sure,  there  is  an  immediate 
descent  on  the  other  side,  where  music  has  con- 
stant label  in  graphic  account  of  detailed  event 
or  scene. 

It  is  a  simple  problem,  almost  algebraic.  If 
there  is  no  emotional  hue,  there  is  too  little  ab- 
sorption. If  there  is  such  a  coloring,  there  must 
be  a  projection  of  subjective  spirit,  which  imme- 
diately assumes  a  moral  (or  immoral)  quality. 

There  is  a  constructive  phase  of  art  forms, 
where  the  tinkering  is  conscious, — is  all  there  is 
It  seems  to  be  a  needed  link ;  it  has  no  other 
reason  for  existence ;  it  is  not  interesting  in 
itself.  The  consciousness  of  form  forbids  spon- 
taneity. Then  comes  the  phase  of  perfected 
form,  where  the  facile  master  goes  roving  freely 
in  the  prepared  pastures,  plucking  the  flowers 
that  are  blossoming  fof  him. 

A  period  arrives  when  there  is  a  certain  relish 
of  the  perfect  dwelling,  when  one  eyes  and 
touches  the  panels  and  pillars  with  a  delight  in 
the  new  design.  But  it  is  not  as  yet  the  sense 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY   IN   E   FLAT 

of  home,  the  quality  of  human  association.  In 
music,  so  long  as  consciousness  of  outer  de- 
sign is  there,  the  high  point  is  not  reached.  On 
the  other  hand,  in  the  dwelling,  association  and 
special  quality  enter  unwatched  and  unushered, 
one  knows  not  when.  So  in  the  very  master 
who  has  the  sense  of  outer  perfection,  a  strong 
quality  of  emotion,  of  sympathy,  and  secret 
moral  spur  may  exist  unreckoned  by  himself. 
Here  we  reach  the  three  great  symphonies  of 
Mozart.  He  combines  both  phases.  On  the 
other  hand,  when  the  master  gets  wind  of  his 
own  power  of  special  utterance,  comes  the  temp- 
tation wittingly  to  paint  certain  feelings.  Here 
is  Beethoven's  design  in  the  Sixth  and  Ninth. 
Thus  broadly  in  the  curve  of  the  symphony  we 
trace  the  formal  growth  to  sudden  height,  to  over- 
bold experiment  across  the  bounds  of  tonal  art 
to  absolute  depiction.  We  see  a  gentler  later 
journey  in  the  realms  of  more  defined  emotion, 
where  intimate  fragrance  is  gained  with  loss  of 
primal  truth.  And  at  the  latest  do  we  have  the 
brave  return  to  biggest  view,  that  reaps  all  gain 
of  earlier  experience  and  best  contains  the  present 
message  of  the  world,  pointing  the  way  and  form 
of  utterance  of  even  greater,  deeper  thought. 

16 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY   IN   E   FLAT 

Mozart's  Symphony  in  E  Flat  connects  Haydn 
and  the  earlier  Beethoven.  The  absolute  inno- 
cence of  purpose  strikes  us  first.  Adagio  here  in 
the  beginning  meant  no  mood,  merely  a  decent 
suppression  of  spirits  for  ceremony's  sake.  It 
was  a  tradition  in  line  with  the  old  French  over- 
tures. Haydn  follows  it  much  of  the  time.  It 
was  the  feeling  of  Gluck,  Cimarosa,  Paer,  those 
worthies  of  the  stiffer  school.  It  has  something 
in  common,  too,  with  the  old  prelude  before  the 
fugue.  In  a  way  it  utters  the  sense  of  gravity 
of  the  coming  epic, — an  invocation  for  the  right 
spirit.  So  these  Adagios  seem  to  be  cast  in  the 
same  mould.  Yet  this  did  not  prevent  a  structure 
of  solemn  beauty  with  clear  tracery  of  lesser 
figures ;  there  are  no  eminent  themes,  no  main 
ideas.  There  is  a  free-flowing  sequence,  and  again, 
FLUTES,  VIOLINS  &  FAGOT. 


CELLOS  AND  BASSES. 

(See  page  18,  line  4.) 

17 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY    IN   E   FLAT 

towards  the  end,  a  bold,  clashing  modern  discord, 
all  done  in  the  polyphonic  process.  At  the  end 
the  voices  enter  in  turn  (of  canon)  on  a  placid 
theme,  which  seems  to  have  something  of  proph- 
ecy, and  thence  hurries  instantly  into  one  of  those 
dancing  melodies  that  were  first  conceived  in 
Haydn's  humor,  but  here  with  Mozart  have  an 
added  inevitable  quality.  They  cannot  be  im- 
agined otherwise  by  smallest  note.  Yet  they  lie 
not  in  that  voice  or  this,  but  consist  in  the  inter- 
play and  imitation  of  several,  mostly  in  strings : 
VIOLINS. 


I*52! 

IORNS  (doubled  below). 

The  second  verse  has  the  tune  all  in  the  bass, 
much  in  the  later  Beethoven  fashion,  with  new 
phrases  to  suit  in  the  upper  voices.  Wonderful, 
too,  how  the  bass  follows  it  out,  even  in  the 
answer.  The  upper  voices  seem  to  lead,  but 
merely  suit  the  song  of  original  melody  below. 
All  this  has  been  lightest  drollery,  almost  whis- 
pering. Now  breaks  in  the  full  chorus  at  the 
loudest,  very  much  in  Gluck's  old  martial  effect, 
— pure,  childlike  pomp. 

18 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY    IN    E   FLAT 


Tutti.  In  unison. 


(Lower  strings  in  rhythmic  J-  notes.) 


Next  follows  a  period  in  livelier  strumming  mo- 
tion ;  still  the  play  of  simplest  sort  of  phrases, 
mere  runs  of  strings  and  blasts  of  woodwind. 
But  the  sequence  is  charming,  running  gradually 
to  neighboring  tonal  mooring,  with  jolly  cadence 
VIOLINS. 


( See  page  20,  line  4. ) 
19 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY    IN    E   FLAT 

in  cheery  chirp  of  smaller  figures.  Then,  on 
still  lighter  trip  of  foot,  a  prettily  moving  duet 
in  strings  is  given  a  pert  response  in  low  cellos, 
with  assenting  chorus  in  the  wood. 

A  new  strain,  more  thoughtfully  serene,  just 
escaping  sadness,  moves  in  the  strings. 


>         VIOLINS  (doubled  below  in  violas). 


Most  charmingly,  right  against  the  expressive 
answer,  woodwind  follow  (in  canon)  with  the 
theme.  A  return  to  general  tripping  and  trilling 
merriment  ends  the  repeated  statement.  It  all 
shows  how  in  music  the  big  man  can  ever  be  a 
child, — need  never  be  ashamed  to  dance  about 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY   IN   E   FLAT 

in   all   his    corpulence   like    any    schoolboy   or 
tot. 

After  the  rehearsing,  the  discussion  begins  on 

STRINGS. 


one  of  the  last  lightest  figures,  as  if  with  a  "  by- 
the-way,"  then  quickly  returns  to  the  graver  sec- 
ond theme  sung  in  the  earlier  manner, — a  real 
and  thorough  discussion,  too,  though  short, 
driving  the  theme  home  by  logical  process  to 
cadence  of  conclusive  beauty.  When  the  seri- 
ous question  is  thus  disposed  of,  we  naturally 
return  to  the  lighter, — a  mere  line  of  retorts  in 
two  former  phrases,  of  skipping  motion  in  strings 
(that  began  the  discussion)  and  blows  of  the 
wind ;  or  rather  the  retort  is  of  the  former  alone 
in  trebles  and  basses  of  strings,  the  latter  chiming 
in  with  general  lack  of  importance.  But  the 
whole  is  ever  moving  tonally,  shifting  the  scene 
and  light  until  it  enters  the  original  region  with 
scampering  figures.  A  pause,  a  few  touches  of 
the  thoughtful  v?ln,  bring  us  back  to  the  original 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY    IN    E   FLAT 


song  of  themes,  which  follows  in  the  old  lines. 
But,  of  course,  the  second  melody  plays  in  the 
home  tone,  and  Mozart's  wit  never  fails  of  a  new 
way  of  saying  old  things.  The  ending  is  true 
to  the  pervading  spirit  of  noisy  mirth.  It  seems 
that  in  the  very  artisan  perfection  of  the  whole 
and  of  detail,  that,  least  of  all  music,  suggests 
verbal  translation,  lies  the  magic  one  vainly  tries 
to  utter  in  words. 

The  second  movement,  Andante,  suggests  how 
simplest  utterance  may  be  profoundest.  It  has 
the  melody  here  of  lyric  pathos  nearest  akin  (of 
all  of  Mozart's)  to  the  great  Beethoven  type. 


One  must  not  forget  to  trace  the  origin  to  Mo- 
zart. The  whole  first  period,  repeated,  too,  is  all 
given  to  the  song  of  the  reigning  melody ;  not 
least  is  the  moving  sequence,  against  steady 
strum  of  viola,  of  the  first  phrase,  with  strange 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY    IN    E   FLAT 


taste  of  harmony,  returning  in  free,  almost  play- 
ful, descent  to  the  strict  theme. 

Now,  after  two   bars   that   seemed   irrelevant 
preface, 

WOODWIND  AND  HORNS. 


led  below.) 


that   quaint   pompous   effect   breaks  out  in  full 
chorus    with    no    particular    tune, — mere    short 


STRINGS. 


(y"chord  of  woodwind.) 

4- 


(Basses  in  y1^  notes  on  F.) 


phrases  that  lend  themselves  easily  to  the  play  of 
sequence  and  imitation.  The  whole,  is,  frankly, 
nothing  but  foil  to  the  principal  melody,  a  short 
relief  from  the  sustained  strain  of  its  pathos, 
though  to  us  it  seems  to  have  no  great  burden 
of  grief;  there  is  a  very  sure  undertone  of  con- 
23 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY   IN   E   FLAT 


tentment.  In  those  days  the  main  business  of 
music  was  to  cheer  and  amuse.  To  us  this  loud 
striding  and  shouting  seems  like  a  sort  of  stage 
device,  —  a  sudden  change  to  rouse  the  mood 
from  pathos,  to  prepare  the  better  for  its  return. 
It  is,  it  must  be  confessed,  the  least  real  of  Mozart. 
It  came  from  a  tradition  abounding  in  Haydn  and 
vanishing  entirely  in  Beethoven.  It  is  a  symptom 
that  marks  the  evolution  of  music  from  work- 
manship, from  conscious  external  effect,  to  emo- 
tional utterance.  But  very  beautifully  the  gentle 
ascent  on  strain  of  first  theme  in  the  wood  re- 
turns to  the  old  strum  of  violas,  this  time 
answered  in  basses.  As  the  phase  repeats,  a 
graceful  curve  of  melody  is  suited  above  to  the 
constant  ascent  of  the  former  below  : 


(In  8ves  of  violins;  rhythmic  T'y  note  chords  in  woodwind.) 


(Cellos  doubled  in  basses.) 

Strange,  this  Mozart  genius  !     In  our  modern 
sensational  way  we  are  just  smiling  despisingly  at 
24 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY   IN   E   FLAT 

his  triteness,  when  here  he  does  a  bolder  stroke, 
all  with  the  innocence  of  a  child  playing  with 
blocks.  Right  in  the  last  free  cadence  on  strain 
of  first  theme,  in  its  very  midst,  a  canon  begins 


WOODWIND. 


(that  is,  a  game  of  follow  the  leader)  on  a  strange 
motive, — strange  till  we  force  our  memory  back 
to  that  irrelevant  preface  of  second  subject. 
Most  curiously  is  blended  the  ending  of  one 
episode  and  the  formal  beginning  of  another,  and 
on  the  same  tone.  And  the  almost  ominous  ring 
of  the  theme  is  repeated  at  each  successive  en- 
trance of  new  voices.  But  in  the  end  all  is 
resolved  on  most  primitive,  nay,  homely  cadence, 
with  a  special  touch  of  humor. 

Sometimes  it  seems  that  music  must  be  true  to 
the  old  adage  :  "  Still  waters  run  deep."  Where 
there  is  most  blatant  noise  there  is  least  thought. 
Again  comes  the  quaint,  serious  canon  leading 
in  liveliest  cadence  back  to  original  theme.  Now 
25 


MOZART  S   SYMPHONY    IN    E   FLAT 

(Violins  with  lower  Sve. ) 


(Woodwind  with  lower  Sve  ; 
Basses  of  strings  sustaining  harmony. ) 

a  tull-fledged  phrase  grows  over  the  lower  sub- 
ject, and  other  figures  are  coursing  about  the 
former  ascending  strain.  The  whole  song  of 
main  melody  sings  with  new  fulness,  here  in 
sombre  minor,  now  in  bright  change  of  light, 
followed  by  the  second  theme,  pompous  as  be- 
fore, but  more  brilliant  in  its  shifting  hues,  with 
now  a  most  modern  flourish.  So  magnificent  is 
this  prismatic  round  of  colors  that  the  tune  finds 
here  a  new  reason  and  a  new  beauty.  And  there 
is  little  to  add,  save  that  in  this  recurring  round 
there  is  ever  a  greater  richness  of  surrounding 
figures,  so  that  the  whole  is  almost  transformed 
in  mood.  Indeed  the  lesser  phrase  threatens  to 
o'ermaster  the  theme  in  outer  emphasis  and  in 
humor.  That  might  be,  save  that,  after  a  return 
of  the  canon,  the  main  melody  sings  in  original 
simplicity,  and  the  air  of  sincerity  is  heightened 

as  the  theme,  refusing  to  close  in  the  usual  way, 
26 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY   IN    E   FLAT 


puts  oft*  the  farewell  in  a  few  ingenuous  words  of 
extension. 

For  once  the  Minuet  is  a  true  minuet ;  there  is 
no  disguise  nor  idealized  Platonic  form  with  the 
original  quality  distilled  away,  but  very  frankly 
the  old  dance,  though  in  magnificent  equipment. 

(Woodwind  and  brass  in  rhythmic  chords  of  ^  notes.) 
MENUETTO.  Allegretto.  ^^?\     • 

i£i±i=-r- 


(Doubled  above  and  below.) 

There  is  no  "  meaning"  whatever  here  beyond 
just  this  joy  and  sense  of  the  dance ;  but  it  is 
a  nobler  movement  than  its  lesser  descendant  the 
waltz.  Assured  strength  there  is  in  the  slow, 
restrained  swing,  which  is  not  merely  a  single 
skip,  but  three  measured  steps,  the  first  being 
strongest.  The  grace  is  consummate,  stately  and 
ever  brilliantly  resplendent  with  full  martial  ac- 
coutrement,— brass,  drums,  and  all.  But  this 
does  not  prevent  a  sudden  soft  gliding  phrase  in 
answer,  as  if  soothing  after  the  awe  of  the  first. 
27 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY    IN   E   FLAT 


Repeats  come  with  due  precision ;  there  is  abso- 
lutely no  yielding  to  a  modem  spirit  of  extension 
and  exception.  On  goes  the  dance  with  full  mil- 
itary stride  on  new  phrase,  gotten  from  the  first, 


(Wood  and  brass  in  rhythmic  chords  of  ^  notes.) 


^5=J^=£ 


0— ' 0 0 


with  a  certain  relentless  attack  of  step,  sweeping 
a  splendid  curve  back  to  main  theme.  Again 
comes  the  full  ceremonial  of  rehearsal. 

The  Trio  is  very  different.  It  does  approach 
our  later  waltz.  But  there  is  a  blended  sort  of 
cradle  song  and  dance  in  the  rocking  of  clari- 
nets and  skipping  of  strings.  Woodwind  sing 

the  tune  in  pretty  echo  of  cadence.     Here,  too, 
28 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY    IN   E   FLAT 


reigns  the  strict  rule  of  repeat.  Then  the  song 
winds  along  in  freest  phrase, — all  trick  of  move- 
ment gone  for  once,  in  naive  discussion  of  the 
new  melody.  Thence  we  are  led  with  greater 
formality  to  the  main  tune  with  due  rehearsing, 
and  back  once  more  to  the  full  pomp  of  majestic 
minuet.  Again  the  absolute  innocence  of  early 
symphony  is  surely  proved. 

Finale :  Allegro.     Sportiveness  is  the  mood  of 
this  vehement  chorusing  of  merry  round  dance, 
given  out  first  by  timidly  jaunty  stnngs.     The 
29 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY    IN    E   FLAT 

whole  band  almost  frighten  you  with  its  mirth  ; 
perhaps  they  intend  it.  There  is  another  charm 
in  the  way  the  jolly  jingle  begins,  not  on  strict 


FINALE.  Allegro. 


bass  note,  as  a  respectable  melody  ought  to  do, 
but  high  in  careless  inverted  chord  at  the  very 
beginning,  like  the  informal  word  that  betrays 
friendly  feeling.  There  is  again  something  of 
the  holiday  from  school  in  these  final  rondos, — of 
the  gay  feeling  that  the  task  is  nearly  done  and 
well  done,  and  the  rest  is  merry-making.  For, 
after  the  melody  has  sung  twice,  the  band  merely 
prance  about  in  almost  infantile  glee,  with  not  a 
sign  of  articulate  theme,  a  kind  of  prolonged 
musical  laughter, — anything  to  keep  the  jingle 
going.  But,  looking  deeper,  it  is  significant  and 
curious  how  this  Mozart  jinale  sets  the  pace  for 

3° 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY    IN    E   FLAT 


(Woodwind  in  rhythmic  chords  of  £  notes.) 


(Basses  in  8ve  below.) 


the  later  Beethoven,  even  of  profoundest  sym- 
phony, as  the  Third  and  Seventh.  It  is  the  per- 
fect link  between  earliest  Haydn  and  latest  Bee- 
thoven. For  the  childlike  is  ever  an  element  of 
profoundest  art.  Without  it  there  is  no  art ;  just 
as  there  is  no  ethics,  no  moral?,  without  clinging 
to  simplest  principle. 

And  all  this  vacant  frolicking  is  repeated,  too, 
fearlessly.  To  be  sure,  these  dancing  figures  do 
gradually  edge  away  into  neighboring  scene  of 
tone,  whence  they  come  to  a  full  stop  and  give 
the  main  tune  a  chance  again.  Now  there  are 
new  pranks.  The  highest  note  of  the  jingle  is  put 
higher  by  most  mischievous,  charming  touch.* 

•'f  To  be  sure,  the  original  note  is  merely  doubled  an  oc- 
tave higher.  But  the  boldness  of  harmonic  touch,  that  was 
almost  lost  in  the  quick  flow  of  first  verse,  is  here  daringly 
and  repeatedly  emphasized. 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY   IN   E   FLAT 

Yet,  reason  it  out  in  modern  theory,  and  you  find 
the  boldest  harmony  implied.  And  then  who 
but  Mozart  thought  of  such  a  delicious  pushing 
out  of"  the  rhythm  as  the  strings  mock  the  wood 
in  the  middle  of  the  tune?  Later  they  sud- 
denly shift  the  scene  through  darker  shades  to 
more  brilliant  light,  where  they  merely  toss  back 
and  forth  the  first  running  motive. 

After  a  boisterous  but  ever  buoyant  climax,  the 
reigning  motive  is  discussed  more  thoughtfully, 
to  return  the  more  gayly  to  a  close  on  repeated 
song  of  tune. 

In  the  hour  of  strict  discussion,  such  as  it  is, 
the  main  theme  is  announced  almost  defiantly  as 
the  text  for  the  evening,  and  there  is  a  sudden 
complete  pause.  Instead  of  the  expected,  is  a 
magical  change  of  tone ;  the  tune  sings  half 
through ;  then  in  another  light  the  first  motive 
above  is  echoed  midway  by  basses  again  and 
again,  ever  trying  a  new  tonal  spot.  Later  the 
echo  comes  much  closer  on  the  heels  of  the  call. 

Finally  the  chase  grows  wilder,  and  all  the 
voices  join  in  the  game,  and  again  there  is  a 
stop.  The  search  through  varying  scenes  goes 
on  in  a  new  way ;  strings  will  start  the  reigning 
motive,  and  wood  will  answer  in  slow  groping 
3* 


MOZART'S   SYMPHONY    IN   E   FLAT 


(Violins  doubled  above.)  CLAR.  &  FAGOTS. 


VIOLINS. 


CELLOS. 


chords,  though  the  bass  is  ever  tripping  away. 
Finally,  the  strings  keep  eagerly  on  and  the  home 
tone  is  reached,  where  the  original  verse  is  now 
sung  again,  the  tune  in  all  its  fulness,  the  chorus 
shouting  the  refrain  as  at  first,  followed,  too,  by 
the  merry,  simple,  inarticulate  dance.  All  the 
round  of  tunes  and  scenes  plays  here,  save  that 
the  path  is  of  course  homeward,  not  afield.  At 
the  very  end  the  main  motive  runs  down  with 
sudden  slam  in  reckless  fun. 

The  sole  prevalence  of  single  theme  through- 
out sonata  movement  can  only  be  conceived 
with  the  blending  of  fulness  and  economy,  of 
abandon  and  restraint,  which  seems  indeed  to 
belong  to  the  highest  reaches,  the  ne  plus  ultra 
of  art. 


11 

BEETHOVEN'S    FIRST    SYM- 
PHONY 

ONCE  more  bravely  refusing  to  spy  on  date 
of  writing,  or  age  of  composer,  and  thus 
by  outer  irrelevant  aid  to  compound  a  view  of 
the  probable  dominant  influence,  let  us  look  at  the 
notes  themselves  and  hope  thus  for  truest  light. 

Adagio  molto  was  the  old  tradition  for  the  be- 
ginning, which  Haydn  rarely  broke.  We  have 
seen  with  him  its  innocent  formality,  a  harmless 
ceremony,  sometimes  plunging  into  the  Allegro 
with  almost  comic  haste,  like  a  hungry  diner  who 
cannot  wait  for  grace.  Here,  with  Beethoven,  it 
does  seem  all  free  of  this  tinge  of  ceremony. 
The  rhythm  is  so  very  solemn,  the  figures  of 
vague  outline,  though  the  best  is  placidly  playful 
in  strings,  pleasantly  answered  by  a  similar  one 
in  woodwind. 

Finally,  the  brevity  makes  most  strongly 
against  deep  import  of  the  Adagio.  The  be- 
ginning and  end  seem  a  little  obvious  of  phrase ; 
still,  we  cannot  judge  the  prelude  without  the 

34 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 


(Strings  with  higher  8ve.) 
Allegro  moderate.  J£ 


(Flute  with  lower  Fagot.) 


(See  page  34,  line  16.) 

whole ;  we  cannot  test  a  chance  prophetic  strain. 
Those  first  chords  of  simplest  cadence  (as  of" 
Amen),  all  in  neighboring  tones, — what  can 
make  them  worthy  of  earliest  invocation  ? 

The  Allegro  has  a  theme  of  unusual  nervous 
dash,  that  raps  its  accent  on  first  tone  with  bold 
insistence,  though  in  gentle  sound  of  strings : 


The  theme  is  carried  on  in  natural  sequence 
of  higher  pitch,  and  ends  in  galloping  descent 
of  arpeggio,  with  big  chords,  in  simplest  ca- 
dence. Right  here  we  cannot  miss,  withal,  a 
subtle  relation  to  the  first  and  the  last  chords  of 

35 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

Adagio ;  a  brave  and  vigorous  simplicity  is  thus 
made  to  hold  sway  as  far  as  we  have  heard. 
And  it  is  strengthened  by  the  continuing  phrase 
(without  change  of  tone),  still  in  primitive  chord 
of  first  scene,  met  by  like  notes  of  answer.  They 
are  just  of  the  tissue  of  like  Mozart  phrases. 
They  mean  no  more  than  the  hearty  greeting, 
with  the  inevitable  response ;  they  come  from 
the  earlier,  artisan  days  of  symphony  and  sonata, 
when  the  sound  of  simple  chord  was  fresh  to 
the  ear.  Men  were  like  the  child  of  to-day, 
that  delights  to  find  the  "  new"  chord  of  oldest 
triad. 

This  very  quality  of  opposite  fitness  of  two 
great  chords  in  every  bit  of  music  had  to  be 
rung  and  driven  home.  The  older  fugue  gave 
no  sense  of  tonal  color  in  the  aesthetic  toil  of  its 
journey.  But  even  to-day  there  is  great  doubt 
whether  we  feel  the  full  depth  of  just  these  two 
main  chords  that  are  like  the  eternal  duality  of 
things,  of  yea  and  nay,  of  black  and  white,  of 
good  and  bad.*  In  the  Symphony,  above  all, 
this  dual  nature  abounds,  where  there  are  two 

*  In  England  the  Sonata  is  commonly  called  the  "  binary" 
form. 

36 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

themes  in  contrasting  tone.*  Nothing  is  clearer 
than  the  answer  of  first  chord  to  the  question 
of  the  other.  The  modern  view  of  true  basis 
of  many  chords  of  supposed  independence  has 
greatly  lowered  their  number.  It  is  a  matter  of 
wonder  whether  they  must  not  narrow  to  the 
limits  of  these  two. 

Nor  was  this  tonal  emphasis  the  sole  purpose. 
So  in  those  early  days  of  melodic  discovery — 
when  the  sense  was  fresh  of  a  tune  at  home  and 
another  abroad — the  very  clearness  of  setting 
needed  a  separation  that  was  merely  formal,  a  di- 
gression purely  general  of  figure.  Thus  the 
early  Beethoven  is  timidly  roaming  to  freer  fields. 
By  contrast,  these  simple  phrases  are  surprising  in 
melodic  relevance ;  yet  we  must  not  forget  that 
the  historical  is  not  the  true  and  final  view.  A 
classic  must  be  intrinsically  great  and  beautiful. 

*  Tone  is  used  at  least  in  two  big  senses  :  first,  of  the  home 
key  which  may  change  for  a  time  ;  second,  as  one  of  the 
seven  harmonic  bases  in  this  key  or  tonal  home.  Of  these 
seven,  the  first  and  fifth  have  a  striking  trait  of  correspond- 
ence, as  of  question  and  answer, — finality  resting  with  the 
original  first  tone.  Their  technical  names  are  tonic  and 
dominant.  The  dominant,  throughout  this  volume,  has  been 
called  the  neighboring  or  nearest  tone. 
37 


BEETHOVEN'S    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

And  there  is  no  need  to  eke  out  here  with  ex- 
planation ;  these  figures,  however  primitive,  have 
a  fresh  vigor  that  will  not  fade  merely  because 
the  time  has  passed  for  saying  them  anew.  What 
is  at  any  time  a  true  expression  will  stay,  without 
regard  to  later  growth  and  experience. 

The  text  of  main  theme  fits  for  big,  spirited, 
dashing  close  in  neighboring  tone,  where  the 
second  subject  sings  a  graceful  melody  in  wood- 
wind to  a  soft  dancing  step  of  strings : 


It  is  built  on  brief  motive  that  is  merely  passed 
along  the  voices  of  the  wood  in  rising  tones,  so 
that  the  whole  gives  outline  of  single  tune. 

If  we  have  not  over-preached  the  text,  the 
dual  idea  is  still  heightened  here ;  for,  best  of  all, 
it  is  in  their  nature  that  the  themes  are  most  op- 
posed. The  sense  of  clear  resolution  of  the  first, 
of  restless  drive,  is  met  with  type  of  innocent, 
helpless  grace  that  has  a  touch  of  timid  appeal. 
We  have  seen  the  full  strength  of  this  dual 
38 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

meaning  in  the  Filth  Symphony.  And  the  true 
force  must  come,  not  in  the  first  mention,  but  in 
the  later  story. 

In  its  close  and  climax  this  feminine  trait  is 
quickly  lost.  And  most  striking  is  the  quiet,  dim 
passage  of  second  theme  far  down  in  murmuring 
basses,  while  higher  strings  keep  lightly  dancing 
and  oboe  far  aloft  sings  a  brightening  reply : 

STRINGS. 


Striking  it  is  how,  with  all  the  gentle  volume, 
the  passive  hue  here  has  vanished.  The  sense  in 
lower  theme  is  clear,  of  a  certain  masculine  stern- 

39 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

ness,  returning  through  boisterous  close  to  the 
dash  of  first  theme,  both  in  refrain  of  tunes  and  in 
the  following  discussion.  But,  with  all  danger  of 
too  close  a  view,  we  must  not  forget  the  clear 
source  of  cadence  of  the  song  of  tunes.  The  line 
of  slow  notes,  lengthened  from  a  strain  of  second 


subject*  is  the  same  as  the  main  phrase  of  intro- 
duction. And  now  we  see  there,  too,  the  simple 
response  of  massive  chords.  The  clear  unity  of 
the  Adagio  with  the  Allegro  is  already  established. 
Strange,  now,  in  these  retorts  the  changed 
nature  of  main  subject.  For  its  timid  phrase  is 
always  met  with  firmer  accents  of  the  answer  of 
second  theme,  and  thus  the  main  subject  has  lost 
its  original  temper  for  the  while.  We  see  that 


Tutti.        STRINGS. 


(Woodwind  doubled 
below  in  strings.) 


Tutti. 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

there  is,  after  all,  no  final  quality  in  a  tune  or 
theme  of  itself;  it  is  all  in  the  poetic  handling. 
The  childlike  motive  may  get  the  sense  of  deep- 
est import  by  a  light  touch  of  rhythmic  bass.* 
Thus  it  is  that,  in  a  master's  hands,  tunes,  as 
personal  figures,  may  show  big  drama  of  experi- 
ence, of  emotion  and  moral  strife;  they  are 
not  stereotyped.  Thus,  as  symbols,  they  give, 
to  him  who  listens,  clearest  message  of  the  deep- 
est meaning  that  man  may  need ;  and  it  is  not 
blurred  with  dogma,  but  comes  with  straightest 
force. 

The  anxious  queries  end  in  a  new  phrase  (the 
last  motive  of  main  theme)  that  rises  from  below 
in  sombre  minor,  with  higher  echo,  curving  in 
constant  change  of  light. 


(Wood  with  Sve.) 


STRINGS. 


*  Compare  the  first  theme  of  Beethoven's   Eroica  Sym- 
phony with  a  common  nursery  rhyme,  Vol.  I. 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

Simple  though  the  harmonies  be,  they  are 
marked  with  a  clear  flash  that  gives  them  the 
charm  of  novel  boldness.  After  all,  the  inner 
thought  is  all,  not  the  means  of  utterance.  If 
the  touch,  the  true  ring  ot  bold  idea,  be  there, 
who  cares  how  simple  be  the  expression  ?  So 
throughout  this  symphony,  amid  all  the  sim- 
plicity of  tonal  roaming,  there  are  clear,  varying 
shades  of  light  and  mood.  Here,  in  the  gloom 
of  minor,  there  is  a  shifting  between  dim  earnest 
and  grim  sort  of  playfulness.  Through  loudest 
clash  of  discord  we  rush  into  the  doubled  speed 
of  the  last  cadent  phrase.  Up  and  down,  cross- 
ing each  other  in  the  eager  chase,  joining  in 
united  run,  they  enter  on  a  lesser  function  of 
quick-flitting  figure,  above  which  the  first  motive 
of  theme  enters,  in  Jturn,  in  voices  all  about,  of 
wood  and  strings.  We  can,  somehow,  never 
be  sure  that  it  is  play ;  there  is  an  uneasy  kind 
of  undertone  throughout.  Higher  mounts  this 
long  phrase,  compounded  of  echoing  bits  of  the 
theme  with  nervous  trembling  of  strings.  Finally 
it  ends  in  united  motive  and  coursing  run  of 
all  strings  in  loudest  unison  chorus,  while  horns 
and  trumpets  hold  a  big  blast  on  the  main 
tone, 

42 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 


Woou  (doubled 
above  and  below) 


followed  by  broad,  conclusive  phrase  of  the  wood. 
Hearty  it  would  be  but  for  this  prevailing  cast 
of  minor  that  ever  shuts  out  the  song  of  cheery 
hope.  In  repeated  phrase  of  climax  we  are  led 
back  to  the  whole  round  of  themes,  and  though 
there  we  return  to  major,  there  is  still  a  want  of 
cheer  and  joy.  The  main  theme  goes  straight- 
way wandering  into  higher,  cloudier  lights,  and 
soon  hurries  its  flight  to  find  the  magic  spot. 
There  is  somehow,  too,  a  hard,  fitful  rap  in  the 
first  phrase  of  subject.  The  flight  through  higher 
tones  is,  we  must  confess,  almost  homely  in  the 
singleness  of  each  slow  step.  The  feeling  is  less 
of  beauty  than  of  relentless  climb.  At  the  top 
the  sense  of  exultation  breaks  out  in  unpretend- 
ing phrase.  The  beauty  of  second  theme  enters 

43 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

as  before,  though  now  in  original  tone,  and,  too, 
the  dim  strain  in  basses,  crowned  by  song  of 
woodwind. 

As  we  near  the  end,  the  old  rollicking  of  wood 
returns  and  a  long  stride  of  arpeggic  motive,  from 
end  of  second  theme,  that  closed  the  original 
verse  of  theme  and  has  its  rise  in  earliest  Adagio. 

WOODWIND  (doubled  in  four  8ves). 


But  this  is  now  blended,  rather  welded,  to  a  ner- 
vous song  of  most  of  main  subject.  The  duet 
of  contrasts  winds  its  higher  journey  and  ends 
in  final  shouts  of  glee*  where  the  primitive  chords 
of  cadence  aje  rung  with  a  certain  intent  of 
elemental  celebration.  The  last  score  of  bars 
are  in  a  single,  unvaried  tone.  The  simplicity 

44 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

of  introduction  has  thus  a  bearing  on  the  first 
Allegro. 

Andante  cantabile  con  mo  to.  A  melody,  like  a 
flower,  is  perfect  of  its  own  reason,  fulness,  and 
symmetry.  The  violet  does  not  lack  because  it 
has  not  the  warmth  and  richness  of  the  rose. 
So  there  is  an  organic  completeness  that  proves 
the  beauty  of  tune,  as  of  flower.  However  sim- 
ple the  lines,  we  do  not  test  or  compare  it  herein. 
All  the  question  is :  Is  it  beautiful  of  its  own 
agreement*?  And  this  perfection  never  comes 
by  toil,  that  tinkers  at  a  mere  chance  phrase. 
The  first  idea  has  the  seed  of  the  tune's  beauty, 
and  finds  thereby  its  own  test  of  soundness. 

We  cannot  compare  the  violet  to  the  rose, 
nor,  often,  to  another  violet.  It  is  not  size  that 
makes  the  flower.  So  we  cannot  compare  our 
Andante  either  to  the  Mozart  kind  or  to  the  later 
Beethoven.  There  is,  in  truth,  much  tempta- 
tion here.  If  we  were  allowed  comparison,  we 
should  surely  choose  the  Andante  of  Mozart's 
G-M5nor  *  Symphony.  For  the  melody  begins 
very  like  this  of  Beethoven's  ;  but  the  fragrance  is 
very  different.  The  Mozart  melody  is  of  much 

*  See  Vol.  I.  p.  77,  third  edition. 
45 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

prouder  bloom, — has,  too,  a  certain  impersonal 
beauty,  almost  awful  in  majestic  moments.  The 
Beethoven  Andante  is  more  modest  in  garb  and 
dimensions,  makes,  throughout,  a  more  direct 
human  appeal,  above  all  in  the  phrase  of  answer. 


2d  VIOLINS. 


VIOLAS  AND  CELLOS. 


Possibly  a  fanciful  question  might  be  asked  with- 
out impertinence  :  How  would  one  prefer  the  first 
notes  of  the  theme  to  be  treated,  —  in  the  Bee- 
thoven or  Mozart  manner?  The  answer  then 
at  best  would  bring  us  back  to  the  original  prob- 
lem. We  can  merely  cite  differences,  not  meas- 
ure the  relative  rank.* 

Instead  ot  the  pomp  of  second  theme,  here 
are  the  briefest  bits  of  timid  phrases,  yet  again 
answered  in  broad  sympathetic  strain,  the  second 
time  with  more  of  serene  assurance  : 


*  To  follow  out  this  idea,  so  far  as  it  may  be  seriously 
conceived,  we  have  but  to  trace  the  course  of  the  Mozart 
Andante  of  the  preceding  chapter,  especially  in  the  episode 
of  second  theme. 

46 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 


FAGOTS 


The  close  here  has  a  sudden  joyous  step,  with 
a  dancing  beat  ot  drum  and  simplest  flowing 
retrain  above. 

After  rehearsing  of  themes,  our  timid  second 
melody  creeps  in,  darkly  clad,  suddenly  bursts 
into  big  flash  of  new  light,  and  now,  in  gentle 
grace  of  the  new  restrained  dance,  trips  along 
(in  strings),  while,  in  the  wood  above,  voices  pipe 
sweetly  back  and  forth  on  the  brief  strain.  At 
every  two  steps  of  the  slow  dance  there  is  again 
a  sudden  crash  of  chord  that  almost  frightens. 
With  rare  beauty  this  verse  winds  through  deli- 

47 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 


Tutti. 


FLUTES.  («J  OBOES  AND  FAGOTS. 


(See  page  47,  line  9.) 

cate  tints  of  shifting  shades,  ever  with  a  sudden 
swoop  of  sound.  And  that  new  lilt  of  slow, 
jaunty  skip  has  come  to  stay,  or  else  there  is  an 
even  quicker  pace  for  most  of  the  song.  After 
final  climax  it  lightly  leads  the  way  back  to  the 
first  verse.  In  all  this  rhythmic  episode  Bee- 
thoven has  never  lost  the  secret  touch  of  pathos 
that  is  part  of  andante.  There  is  here  the  hap- 
piest blending  of  dance  and  lyric  plaint. 
48 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

Again,  if  we  are  given  leave  to  take  an  historic 
glance,  Beethoven  has  here,  in  the  first  instance, 
wonderfully  solved  the  question  of  tradition. 
Where  Mozart  (even  in  the  Andante  of  G-Minor 
Symphony)  breaks  into  tumultuous,  vacant  epi- 
sode, in  formal  contrast  with  the  pathos  of  tune, 
Beethoven  has  never  lost  the  pervading  vein, 
though  he  does  not  lack  the  dynamic  touch  and 
the  sparkle  of  new  rhythm.* 

.The  trait  of  varied,  quickened  pace  of  andante 
became  almost  a  habit  with  our  master.  Of 
course  we  must  not  forget  that  the  new  step  lay 
all  within  the  line  of  the  original  melody.  Sing- 
ing again  all  the  themes  with  still  richer  rhythm 
(which  never  disturbs  the  basic  mood),  the  An- 
dante ends  with  almost  passionate  stress  of  first 
answer.* 

The  third  movement  is  called  Menuetto,  but  is 
really  Scherzo,  and  the  first  of  its  unmistakable 
kind,  freed  from  the  bond  of  dance, — pure  glee, 
without  the  least  need  or  heed  of  aught  be- 
sides. 

For  theme,  look  at  the  line  purely  of  scale,  dl 

*  See  also  the  discussion  of  the  Andante  of  Mozart's  E-Flat 
Symphony  in  the  preceding  chapter. 
4  49 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

the  notes  in  successive  steps,  touched  with  magic 
wand  of  rhythm  to  most  expressive  song  : 


MENUETTO. 
Allegro  molto  e  vivacf. 


.it* 


STRINGS. 


J 


f 


And  the  second  part  is  really  a  full  discussion  of 
the  mere  rhythm  itself: 


^m 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 


•driving  along  to  boldest  scenes,  ending  in  full  ca- 
dence far  from  familiar  ground.  Here,  as  the 
gay  tripping  of  former  bass  sings  overhead,  the 
tune  is  down  below,  dinging  away  with  most  so- 
norous iteration, — all  this  inversion  with  the  ease 


STRINGS. 


(Flutes  in  higher  8ves.) 

" 


STRINGS  AND  FAGOTS. 


of  mature  master.  The  trip  now  keeps  on  alone, 
most  softly,  broken  by  a  sudden  single  skip  of 
lower  and  echoing  higher  voices.  These  three 
in  mischievous  flight  bring  us  suddenly  to  first 
tone,  where  all  the  chorus  join  in  the  loud  song 
of  main  theme,  carried  on  to  brilliant  pranks 
of  tone  and  rhythm,  ending  in  a  step  of  unison 
.clog. 

The  Trio  has,  first  in  Beethoven,  the  sense 
•of  tense,  quivering  rhythm,  in  sustained  chords 
•of  woodwind,  too,  and  clumsy  brass,  while  run- 
ning phrase  of  strings  ever  spurs  the  restless 
pulse : 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 


TRIO. 
WOODWIND  AND  HORNS. 


Almost  greater  is  the  hidden  motion  here, 
merely  implied  in  the  slow  gurgling  notes  of  wood 
and  horn, — the  finest,  subtlest  revel,  with  all  econ- 
omy of  motion.  In  the  second  verse,  on  go  the 
throbbing  tones  of  wood  and  answering  pulse  of 
strings,  calling  back  and  forth  like  playing  children, 


CLARINETS  AND  HORNS. 


STRINGS. 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

softer  and  softer,  till  the  strings  are  coursing 
alone.  Then  the  wind  dance  in  again  and  end 
in  biggest  chorus,  joined  by  strings  in  full  career. 
Almost  two  motions  here  there  are,  if  we  cared 
to  single  the  quaintly  heavy  clog  of  wind, — like 
an  old  person  taking  long  steps  to  three  of  the 
younger.  And  so,  back  to  the  fling  of  earlier 
scherzo. 

The  Finale  shows  the  capacity  for  highest  ex- 
ultation, in  feeling  and  expression,  which  seems 
part  ot  genius.  There  is  a  certain  delight  in 
finding  all  the  ear-marks  of  the  older  master,  and, 
withal,  the  freshness  of  the  younger.  The  method 
is  of  Mozart ;  the  bold,  big  rushing  humor  of 
late  Finale  is  not  dreamt  of,  yet. 

There  is  no  resisting  a  reminder  of  the  Finak 
of  Mozart's  E-Flat  Symphony.*  Nor  can  the 
movement  here  be  said  to  strike  a  deeper  note 
of  glee,  nor  to  wing  a  broader  course.  In 
workmanship,  too,  there  is  a  feeling  of  the  great 
Finale  of  the  Jupiter  Symphony,  as  short  phrases 
in  long  notes  are  combined  in  close  architecture 
with  quick  coursing  themes.  Indeed,  there  is  a 
likeness  of  actual  phrase. 

*  See  the  preceding  chapter. 
53 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

First,  after  gradual  approach  from  the  pace  of 
Adagio,  comes  the  quick,  flashing,  jesting  theme 
in  running  strings. 


Allegro  molfo  e  vivace. 
STRINGS. 


For  answer  (where  fagots  aid  the  cellos)  we 
have,  in  slower  notes,  again  a  new  rhythmic- 
guise  of  scale,  presently  inverted  and  sealed  in 


full  cadence.  The  next  phrase  has  a  certain 
flavor  of  Jupiter  Symphony,  indeed  a  much 
stronger,  to  trace  farther  back,  of  the  Finale  of 

54 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

Haydn's  in  E-Flat,*  where  the  very  theme  and 
part  of  answer  are  used.     Nevertheless,  of  actual 

(Strings  with  lower  Sves.) 
BRASS  AND  OBOES. 

1 


borrowing  there  is  none.  For,  first  of  all,  it  is 
here  mere  digressing  phrase,  which  was  supposed 
to  consist  of  commonest  figure  (as  we  have 
shown  above),  where  all  the  world  had  equal 
property.  Nor  is  the  answer  brought  on  the 
heels  of  theme,  as  in  Haydn  with  quite  differ- 
ent effect.  The  resemblance  does  show  a  com- 
mon phase  of  the  three  masters  who  guided  the 
career  of  the  Symphony.  It  shows  Beethoven 
here  in  obedient  suit  of  the  other  two.  More- 
over, the  leadership  was  not,  as  we  might  think, 
with  the  oldest ;  for  the  Jupiter  Symphony  t  pre- 
ceded liavdn's  in  E  Flat  bv  seven  vears. 


*  Peters  Edition,   No.    i.      See  Vol.    I.,   "Symphonies 
and  Their  Meaning." 

•j-  It  was  written   with    the    others  ot"  the    great    trio  in 
1788. 

55 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

The  true  importance  lies  in  the  fact  that  our 
poet  was  not  yet  free  from  a  touch  of  formal 
phrase.  Nor  does  the  outward  themal  likeness 
prove  it,  but  merely  confirms  the  direct  view. 
The  spirit  has  not  roamed  far  from  the  humor 
of  Haydn. 

This  duet  of  long  and  short  notes  soon  drops 
into  a  sort  of  canter  on  the  trip  of  the  quicker 
phrase,  and  leads  to  the  neighboring  tone,  in 
which  it  closes  with  a  most  jovial  entrance  of 
answer  of  main  subject  in  the  basses,  echoed  in 
almost  unison  chorus. 

The  virtue  qf  second  verse,  now  in  new  tone, 
lies  in  the  trick  of  rhythm,  of  easy  stride  of 
basses  and  constant  quicker  strum  of  violas  on 
single  note,  whereby  the  tune  has  a  witching  sort 
of  leisurely  pleasantry : 


(Theme  doubled  in  higher  strings; 
Harmony  in  higher  wood.) 


9000        >•  0  0  0  0—  —  0  0m 

r     ~r~    T 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST  SYMPHONY 

The  climax  is  not  overwhelming,  and  closing 
figures  follow  which  do  not  show  a  strong  cre- 
ative effort.  Indeed,  the  spirit  of  the  whole  is 
mere  innocent  humor — when  a  man  was  frankly 
glad  to  near  the  end  of  his  work. 

The  themes  repeated*  the  closing  phrase  is 
taken  up,  as  if  for  serious  thought^  and  twice 
considered  in  varying  lights.  But  suddenly  an 
unforeseen  chorus  bursts  in  with  bouncing,  heavy 
gait  and  unimportant  message,  leading  quickly 
to  a  very  pretty  encounter  of  two  phrases  of 
first  subject : 


STRINGS. 


Then  the  main  melody  itself  is  tossed  here  and 
there,  the  upward  phrase  runs  down  for  answer ; 
all,  musical  quips  and  puns,  and  flashes  of  wit. 
There  is  no  earnest  intent,  no  serious  mood. 
There  is,  too,  little  sequence ;  for  here,  when 


BEETHOVEN'S   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

the  dispute  looks  a  bit  fugal,  a  gentle  dance 
from  the  woodwind  comes  to  the  relief;  the 
phrases  trip  along  with  still  gayer  abandon,  end- 
ing in  the  same  jovial  song  of  answer  in  the 
basses.  Through  merry  climax  we  reach  the 
original  chain  of  tunes,  the  second  appearing  in 
the  main  tone.  All  the  lesser  phrases  recur  with 
an  added  verse  of  theme;  the  Haydn  strain 
follows  in  quite  a  new  guise. 

The  simplicity  of  first  movement  is  all  here 
in  the  last,  and  thus  agrees  with  the  introduction. 
But  of  the  two  Allegros,  the  stress  is  with  the 
first.  The  Andante  and  even  more  the  Menuetto 
suggest  a  far  maturer  stage.  The  latter  seems,  in- 
deed, to  point  to  a  Finale  of  greater  weight.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  master  here  retreated  into  the 
safer  shell  of  earlier  tradition. 


in 

BEETHOVEN'S  SECOND 
SYMPHONY 

WE  must  think  of  the  traditions  existing: 
Haydn's  playful  idea  ;  little  real- pathos; 
abundant  mock  heroics,  however  unwitting ;  but, 
of  Mozart,  a  real  Olympian  force,  even  if  there 
be  no  Promethean  fire.  The  symphony  and, 
with  it,  music  and  musicians  have  gained  by 
degrees  a  breadth,  a  dignity,  a  respect,  merging 
in  awe. 

A  symphony  no  longer  amuses  and  merely 
charms :  the  minstrel  doffs  the  guise  of  clown ; 
he  takes  the  stand  of  prophet  and  of  poet. 

Hovering  in  this  border-land  is  much  of  the 
second  of  Beethoven.  When  the  fire  appears,  it 
comes  unknown  to  the  poet  himself.  There 
can  never  be  aught  of  assumed  dignity  in  the 
true  poet.  All  his  power  is  won  with  his  own 
reluctance.  He  cannot  help  the  greatness  of 
his  words ;  he  can  only  prepare  for  his  own 
best  expression.  This  period,  when  an  undreamt 
59 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

moral  force  is  first  evolved  in  the  very  servants 
of  outer  nobility,  is  truly  dramatic,  —  the  won- 
derful proof  of  the  greatest  kind  of  hidden  truth, 
—  as  in  Scripture,  the  "evidence  of  things  not 
seen." 

The  full  pause  at  the  start,  to  call  for  "  sacred 
silence,"  is  almost  a  formality.  It  means  little 
in  itself;  by  tradition  it  may  run  straight  into  a 


Adagio  mollo. 


burst  of  merriment.  There  follows  a  placid 
strain,  in  the  wood,  of  gently  flowing,  thoughtful 
«ong,  hardly  the  note  of  pathos.  Recurs  the 
pause  and  the  strain,  now  in  strings,  with  trilling 
cadences.  Climbing  to  higher  perches,  it  does 
strike,  at  the  top,  a  blow  of  new  force  and 
meaning  in  sudden  new  light  of  tone,  of  a  cer- 
tain stern  reality.  Through  all  dreamy  haze  a 
new  masterful  phrase  descends  in  strings,  followed 
60 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

in  fugal  chase  by  other  voices,  the  first  returning 
in  slow  chords  of  harp  to  the  heights.     Against 


(Basses  in  lower  8ve.) 
(Flutes  doubled  in  fagots  two  8ves  below.) 


•JP 


the  nervous  quicker  strum,  the  slower  figure 
grows  to  clearer  song  on  seeming  text  of  first 
phrase.  In  the  stirring  pulse  of  movement,  in 
the  authority  of  themal  utterance,  in  the  growing 
maze  of  speaking  voices,  we  see  Beethoven 
taking  his  prelude  more  seriously  than  was  the 
wont.  All  this  profounder  episode  ends  in  a  big 
unison  tone,  descending  in  notes  of  minor  chord. 
Then  follows  another  phase,  gentle  of  volume, 
but  ever  close-knit  in  the  double  canon,  the  ex- 
change of  higher  air  with  lower.  The  basic 

61 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 


phrase  is  in  the  spirit,  it"  not  in  the  outline  of 
original  strain,  —  :i  kind  ot  last  refrain  of  its 
essential  notes. 


(Violins  doubled  in  the  8ve.) 


(Sustaining  bass  and  horns.) 


Thence  in  vague,  trembling  chords,  answered  by 
trill  of  flutes  with  strange  accents  echoed  below 
in  strings,  the  voices  hurry  in  eager  though 
solemn  swell  ot"  song  to  the  new  speed  and  dash 
of  the  Allegro.  There  is  indeed  a  kind  of  pro- 
phetic quality  of  big  overture  in  this  true  pre- 
lude, as  we  shall  see  clearly  far  on  towards  the 
end  of  the  whole  work. 

One  of  those  themes  is  this  first  of  Allegro, 
where  motion  stands  out  more  than  outline.  Be- 
ginning in  basses  of  strings,  the  tune  lifts  the 
whole  structure  directly  and  powerfully  on  the 
momentum  of  its  own  current.  That  is  the 
virtue  of  a  melody  in  the  bass :  it  is  not  cum- 
62 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 


bered  with  the  duller  weight  of  mere  harmonic 
and  rhythmic  harness.  There  is  a  great  econ- 
omy and  telling  force  in  its  whole  utterance, 
rhythmic  as  well  as  harmonic, — the  two  ele- 
ments of  melody. 


Allegro  con  brio. 


Strange  how  certain  tunes  need  a  translation 
through  moving  mass  of  cumbrous  chords  for 
real  effect,  while  others  mark  their  own  harmony 
in  the  melodic  path  and  ever  bear  above  the 
tune  the  weight  of  other  melodies.  It  is  a  little 
like  the  natural  law,  where  more  power  is  needed, 
the  nearer  it  is  applied  to  the  basic  point :  and 
of  course  the  effect  is  the  more  direct.  Some 
such  instant  result  has  the  melody  which  lies  in 
its  own  bass.  Were  we  to  call  on  science,  our 
simile  would  prove  an  example  of  the  broad  law 
itself.  This  basic  quality  continues,  save  in 
lighter  phrases  of  answer  (in  high  strings  or 
wood).  In  its  Titanic  manner  the  tune  descends, 
63 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

without  reck,  into  bold  changes  of  ever  lower 
tonal  base,  then  swings  suddenly  off  into  bus- 
tling phrase  in  high  strings  and  wood,  that  might 


r   Jr 

r££i 

HI 

*f  f  -t 

ff  STRINGS. 

Jhrfy 

1     *    H  Ll1    !    '    '  ' 

be  a  second  tune  but  for  the  paling  melody  that 
soon  sounds  in  neighboring  tone,  which  has  been 
reached  with  due  formality. 

(Air  in  clarinets,  doubled  below  in  fagots.) 
(Bass  in  violas,  doubled  below.) 
(Reinforcing  horns.) 


In  notes  of  lower  wood  and  horns  this  hunter 
song  sings  brave  and  blithe,  with  quivering  strings 
below,  acclaimed  with  full  chorus,  that  ends  the 
64 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

(repeated)  verse  in  still  farther  tonal  station.  Quite 
a  line  or  two  are  built  on  mere  chance  phrase  of 
the  end  of  last  cadence, — just  to  show  how  little 
formal  theme  is  needed  if  there  be  a  good  charge 
of  spurring  rhythm.  It  is  indeed  rhythm  alone 
that  will  give  to  the  outline  of  mildest  tune  the 
most  heroic  figure.  With  its  magnificent  tor- 
rent of  pace,  the  second  melody  comes  to  tu- 
multuous close  'mid  big  plunging  chords. 

But,  dispensing  with  formal  end,  the  motive  of 
first  theme  steals  whispering  in,  far  down  in  strings, 
on  the  same  feverish  pulse  and  leads  in  swelling 
volume  to  final  cadence  of  still  greater  power  on 
the  tonal  quarter  of  second  melody,  whence  the 
song  of  themes  is  repeated. 

Two  episodes  stand  out  in  the  discussion,  mark- 
ing something  of  the  later  power  of  the  poet. 
Beginning  in  dim  minor  of  strings,  the  basses 
growl  the  strain  of  main  theme  with  a  clash  of 
bold  jarring  chords  against  trembling  of  high 
violins,  as  they  hold  their  sure,  unyielding  course. 
Presently,  out  of  the  lower  tune  and  the  high 
tremolo  emerge  at  the  same  time  two  themes  of 
fugal  hue  and  emphasis,  which  meet  and  ex- 
change roles,  each  standing  as  answer  for  the 
other.  A  special  relevance  lies  in  the  close  like- 

5  65 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 


ness  of  upper  phrase  to  the  one  we  nearly  mis- 
took for  second  theme ;  but  it  has  here  a  much 
more  masculine  look.  Carried  on  in  several 
steps  of  sequence,  the  whole  has  a  very  dog- 
matic air  of  stern  logic.  Later  the  woodwind, 
which -had  been  silently  watching  the  dual  expo- 
sition, join  in  lighter  kind  of  answers  of  less 
serious  strain. 

For  some  time  the  quick  motive  of  main 
theme  holds  sway,  while  first  the  chords  of  basses 
strike  lower  steps  with  stern  emphasis ;  later, 
chords  in  woodwind  descend,  through  shifting 
tones,  while  the  motion  runs  below.  There  is  a 

66 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 


sort  of  border-land  of  earnest  and  humor.  Per- 
haps the  serious  intent  is  not  quite  attained.  Now, 
in  nearby  tone,  the  second  melody  sings  light 
versions  of  its  main  phrase.  Then,  as  the  climax 
is  reached,  comes  the  second  of  our  episodes  upon 
a  basic  phrase,  strong  of  tone  and  active  move- 
ment, again  like  the  two  former  whose  kinship 
we  have  traced.  There  sounds,  above,  a  phrase 
in  simple  though  sturdy  notes  of  single  chord, 


ff  STRINGS  (the  upper  tune  doubled  in  8ve    above,  the 
lower  below.     Sustained  octave  chords  of  C  sharp  in  the  wood). 

rising  and  descending  much  like  the  famous 
King  of  France,  and,  especially  in  downward 
motion,  showing  a  clear  origin  in  answer  of  main 
theme.  The  whole  is  an  innocent  phase,  where 
the  old  play  does  not  quite  emerge  to  the  later 
grim  earnest,  though  it  shows  the  tendency. 
From  the  resulting  crisis  the  fall  is  quick  to  the 
entrance  of  main  subject,  as  at  first.  The  whole 

journey  of  tunes  is    much  as  before,  save,  of 
67 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

course,  homeward ;  but  there  is  an  after-thought 
wrhich  marks  a  third  period  of  mild  discussion. 
A  short  phrase  of  quiet  reflection,  which  had 
served  to  turn  back  to  repeated  song  of  themes, 
here  sings  at  the  corresponding  spot ;  is  taken  up 

WOODWIND. 


(Strings  in  3  octaves.) 

with  firm  emphasis  by  the  basses  against  bits  of 
main  theme ;  rises  in  higher  and  higher  steps, 
doubling  soon  the  speed  of  its  tune,  driving  the 
themal  phrase  before  it  in  eager  chase.  Before 
the  ending  frolic  there  is  a  strain  of  real  pro- 
fundity, when  on  the  spur  of  main  motive,  dart- 
ing into  strange  shades,  in  trembling  strings  and 
sustaining  wood,  there  rises,  in  pent  tension, 
through  brilliant  steps  of  changing  light,  the 
climax  of  movement,  whence  the  descent  is  in 
shifting  chords,  as  a  while  ago.  In  the  ending 
frolic,  the  unofficial  (second)  tune  runs  its  jolly 
course  in  the  basses  against  vague  merry  phrase 
above.  Later  the  main  motive  very  simply  runs 

68 


BEETHOVEN  S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

up  and  down,  in  full  career,  and  ends  with  the 
usual  harmonic  farewell  in  big  chords. 

Larghetto.  One  might  say  these  earlier  Bee- 
thoven poems  are  Mozartian ;  if  they  are,  they 
by  no  means  measure  Mozart ;  they  merely  show 
his  influence  on  a  very  opposite  spirit.  We  are 
inclined  to  think  these  Mozartian  Andantes  of 
Beethoven  decidedly  lower  than  their  great 
models.  Comparison  has,  here,  less  ot  odium, 
because  it  depends  on  the  single  measure  of  the 
elder  master's  art. 

Poets  cannot  be  compared.  Even  if  two 
poets  had  the  same  strength  and  equipment,  all 
things,  in  other  words,  being  equal  save  the  indi- 
vidual temper,  they  would  certainly  take  different 
views  of  life  and  of  the  world  ;  they  would  have 
no  common  unit  of  measure.  Their  supposed 
equality  could  never  be  determined.  Now,  as  no 
two  poets  have  just  such  equal  endowment,  the 
problem  of  comparison  is  so  much  the  more 
difficult, — in  short,  is  clearly  impossible. 

The  Mozart  Andantes  are  complete.  The 
Beethoven  Larghetto  of  the  Second  Symphony 
lacks  something  that  we  feel  in  the  later  sym- 
phonies.  The  lack  is  also  in  Mozart ;  but  there 
it  has  a  compensation. 

69 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

As  yet  serenity  has  not  lost  its  sway.  There 
is  no  depth  of  world-woe  in  our  flowing  Lar- 
ghetto.  But  there  is  a  most  charming  folk-song 
of  appealing  pathos.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
the  glorious  melody  of  the  beginning  might  hold 
its  own  with  any  of  the  later  ones : 


STRINGS.  tr. 

Larghetto. 


It  is  really  of  the  same  mould  of  profound 
sympathy.  It  is  in  the  rest  of  the  move- 
ment that  the  difference  of  mood  and  basic 
purpose  lies.  The  lowest  depths  of  our  Lar- 
ghetto are  reached  at  the  beginning,  in  the  first 
melody;  the  rest  is  relief,  foil,  almost  apology 
for  its  seriousness.  In  the  later  symphonies, 
the  first  melody  is  but  the  principal  figure  of 
a  tragedy. 

But  nothing  can  gainsay  the  beauty  of  our 
main  subject;  and  it  has  a  generous  satisfying 
reach.  After  the  first  half,  a  full  tune  in  itself, 
has  come  to  rest  in  the  neighboring  tone,  the 
second  flows  on  with  sense  of  anxious  question* 
70 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 


which  are  answered  with  rare  and  deep  solace. 
But  immediately,  in  the  original  tone,  all  strain 
of  pathos  is  lightened  in  simplest  time  of  am- 
bling to  placidly  dancing  pace,  with  playful 
answers,  on  smallest  fragment  of  melody : 


VIOLINS. 


CLARINETS  AND 
LOWER  FAGOTS. 


STRINGS.' 


It  rises,  to  be  sure,  quickly  to  big  height  of 
tone  and  volume,  in  stern  colors  of  chord,  against 
reversed  motion  in  the  bass,  all  echoed  most 
lightly,  followed  by  bolts  of  big,  bold  harmony. 
But  all  this  must  be  half  pretence,  mock  earnest. 
For,  on  the  tune  goes  dancing,  saucily  almost. 
Immediately  afterwards  follows  the  second  theme, 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 


utterly  reckless  of  anything  else  in  the  world  but 
its  own  springing  gait. 


Later  the  tune  sings  in  quicker  variation. 
while  high  wood  come  piping  in,  fitly  in  place. 
Very  soon,  of  course,  against  its  minor  note  on 
high,  lower  voices  press  in  rising  stress  with 
touch  of  original  earnest,  to  the  crisis. 


(  Violins  doubled  above  in  flutes. 


^-yffjA-^L-^ 


y^T7 


(Strings  doubled  m  cresc. 

wood  and  horns. ) 


Quickly  the  stress  is  relieved  in  lightest  run, 
now  rises  again  with  more  urgency,  where  the 
echoes  of  phrases  are  less  play  than  emphasis, 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

to  tar  bigger  climax,  awful  for  the  moment. 
But  once  again  the  massed  chords  dance  gently 
away  from  the  stern  height  and  the  tune  runs 
lightly  down  to  lower,  harmless  plane,  repeating 
all  this  easy  descent  in  whispers.  At  the  end, 
much  like  the  coda  of  first  theme,  is  an  atter- 
touch  in  pleasantest  good  humor,  like  a  primitive 
peasant  dance.  It  is  evident  that  our  poet  will 


not  harry  our  feelings  in  this  Andante.     But  in 
this    battledore    and   shuttlecock    of  moods  we 

73 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

are  never  safe ;  the  end  of  the  dance,  comic  in 
its  lumbering  step,  rings  again  and  again,  and 
always  louder  until  it  quite  frightens  us  in  its  full 
height,  when  it  runs  down  once  more  to  the  level 
of  first  tone.  Thence  the  original  melody  sings 
in  minor,  not  so  much  to  heighten  the  pathos, — 
for  this  is  neither  needed  nor  achieved, — but  as  a 
path  towards  stranger  tones,  where  a  new  quality 
of  sternness  is  reached  in  spite  of  the  light  run 
that  ever  answers  the  motive  of  main  theme. 
Now  the  lowest  fathoms  are  touched,  as  always 
in  the  discussion,  where  the  dim  line  of  the  mo- 
tive sounds  far  down  in  ominous  bass,  against 
trembling  strings,  answered  on  high  by  fearsome 
cries  in  the  wood  (in  reversed  theme),  all  in  tune 


(Cellos  doubled  below.) 

of  restless  gloom.  Call  and  answer  ring  again 
and  again,  and  the  volume  swells  to  big  cadence, 
still  in  gloom  of  minor.  Once  more  sings  the  sad 
duet,  beginning  now  on  high,  answered  below 

74 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

Here  the  swelling  volume  brings  gladder  cadence 
in  brighter  major,  in  distant  scene,  to  be  sure. 
Still  the  sense  is  most  of  power  and  striving,  less 
of  joyous  triumph,  as  the  treble  and  bass  in  eager 
canon  rear  big  mass  in  thundrous  toil  of  Titans, 
on  the  base  of  first  motive.  The  hue  of  minor 
darkens  the  struggle  for  a  moment  before  the 
big  crisis.  And  no  dancing  step  comes  in  for 
relief;  instead,  the  former  urging  ascent  of  lower 
voices  against  higher  note,  that  followed  second 
theme.  Here,  too,  the  stress  is  sterner  than 
before,  and  from  the  height  that  is  reached,  no 
playful  skip  descends,  but  a  phrase  of  graver 
color.  From  this  point  we  return  to  the  original 
course  of  themes,  main  and  lesser,  official  and 
incidental.  Change  there  is,  first  in  the  richer 
suite  of  flowing  phrases  attending  main  melody, 
though  they  do  not  add  to  sense  of  pathos.  The 
after-phrase,  to  be  sure,  attains  a  greater  force  in 
its  deeper  extension.  Else  there  is  no  new  note 
or  mood.  And  so  the  prevalence  of  lighter 
dance,  as  at  the  beginning,  must  prevent  a  final 
sense  of  real  profundity.  The  end  is  in  note  of 
main  theme — a  last  word  of  the  speaking  solace 
of  original  cadence. 

Scherzo.     Full  of  childlike  playfulness  is  the 

75 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

Scherzo,  dashing  from  loud  strokes  to  light  skip, 
like  a  game  of  "  frightening  :" 


(Tutti,  reinforcing.)      VIOLINS. 


VIOLINS. 


eno  allegro.   J      J     V    TUTTI.  .      _v    _£. 


Most  development  is  by  faintest  gradation  ;  there 
is  here  nothing  of  the  profound  humor  of  the 
type  of  Beethoven  scherzo.  We  might  call  it 
Haydn-like,  but  for  a  certain  forcefulness  of 
rhythm,  a  greater  vigor  of  accent  than  Haydn 
cared  to  assert.  Herein,  however,  it  has  no  ad- 
vantage over  Mozart's  great  menuettos  of  E-Flat 
and  G-Minor  symphonies ;  and  so,  if  we  were 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

forced  to  compare,  we  should  place  it  thus  in 
intermediate  rank. 

The  second  verse  of  scherzo,  after  a  strain  or 
two  of  first  theme,  runs  in  jolly,  informal  tune  in 
freest  abandon,  without  least  serious  undertone. 


STRINGS. 


All  the  more  vigorous  is  the  stroke  of  returning 
theme.  This  time,  instead  of  the  stop  in  full 
chorus,  it  scampers  away  on  trip  of  dance,  really 
a  very  quick  waltz.  At  the  faintest,  the  high 
oboe  sounds  gently  an  unexpected  lay,  swaying 
to  the  broad  swing  of  quicker  trip, — answered  in 

(.Oboe  doubled  in  lower  fagot.) 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

bustling  chords  of  strings,  first  up,  then  down, — 
that  extends  to  usual  spirited  close.  The  theme 
of  Trio,  merely  a  new  verse  on  the  same  buoyant 
wing,  is  a  most  tuneful  roundelay  in  its  narrowest 
limits : 

(Oboes  and  fagots  with  horns.; 

& O- 


The  second  part  merely  keeps  the  rhythm  hum- 
ming alone  in  sustained  trill  of  neighboring  tone, 
or  in  unison  glide  up  and  down  the  arpeggic 
chord, — coming  with  a  halt  to  the  first  tone  and 
tune  of  Trio.  In  the  last  refrain,  the  bass  is 
busily  running  along  in  quicker  trip,  and  the 
78 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

last  cadence  is  sportively  rung  in  constant  canonic 
iteration. 

There  is  little  ground  for  holding  these  earlier 
symphonies  as  lesser  because  they  do  not  strike 
the  deeper  note  of  sympathy  or  of  humor.  To  be 
sure,  they  are  in  the  Haydn  and  Mozart  tradition  ; 
yet  they  have  their  own  spontaneous  quality. 
Slowly  the  younger  spirit  moves  to  independent 
utterance  ;  but  the  growth  itself  is  all  of  the  real 
Beethoven,  and  perhaps  the  Mozart  influence 
means  a  healthier  feeling  and  art.  Who  shall  say  *? 
It  is  our  old  question.  It  is  best  to  be  glad  of  the 
purely  joyous  spring  of  the  youthful  master,  and 
to  take  the  maturer  works  with  sombrer  though 
profounder  hue,  as  another  phase  of  poetry.  We 
may  compare  two  forms  of  art  that  utter  the 
same  feeling,  not  two  different  kinds  of  thought. 

Allegro  molto.  The  first  tune  somehow,  for 
right  or  wrong,  carries  us  back  to  the  prophetic 
trilling  motive  (the  only  phrase  of  the  prelude 
of  which  we  can  find  a  literal  trace  in  the  later 
symphony) . 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

It  seems  to  suit  with  the  big  breadth  of  this 
true  overture,  more  serious  in  plan  than  any 
earlier  of  symphony.  That  very  first  strain  of 
all  had  a  certain  width  of  view,  disdaining  mere 
literal  foretaste  of  tune.  It  did  not  give  a 
glimpse  of  the  Andante,  though  in  similar  spirit. 
It  seemed  like  poetic  forecast  of  the  real  meaning 
of  the  whole.  The  sense  of  strife  of  second  phase, 
returning  to  quieter  thought,  ended  with  nervous 
figure  of  trill,  spurring  to  the  rush  of  first  Allegro. 

Unconsciously  now  the  Finale  returns  to  this 
figure  for  text,  and  binds  the  whole  with  faint 
semblance  of  outer  theme  : 

Allegro  mono. 

tr. 


f          f  »f     v*       * 

(Wood  and  strings  doubled  above  and  below.) 

The  timid  expectant  cry  of  wondering  flutes 
finds  here  ari  assured  utterance  in  the  firm,  unison 
phrase  of  masterful  chorus  of  woodwind  and 
strings. 

In  answer,  strings  run  lightly  in  even  trip  of 
curve  to  simple  cadence,  while  the  bass  moves  in 
big,  sweeping  tones,  almost  of  melody.  After 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 


repeating,  the  strings  answer    the    skip  of  first 
notes  with  short,  almost  comic  stride,  that  soon 


OVood  doubled  above.) 


STRIXGS. 


doubles  to  gay  cadence. 

The  whole  is  clearly  restrained  from  rushing 
pace  of  Scherzo ;  the  point  of  gravity,  since  the 
Jupiter  Symphony,  has  veered  towards  the  Finale. 
And  then  there  is  ever  a  compensation  in  the 


fti 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

speed  of  beginning  and  end,  of  first  movement 
and  last.  With  all  the  quickness  of  molto  allegro, 
there  is  a  frequent  breaking  of  the  pace  by  re- 
curring halts. 

With  all  the  speed,  there  is  a  poetic,  almost 
dreamy  touch  in  the  second  tune,  whose  motive 
is  contained  in  four  notes,  beginning  in  bass,  in 
close  fugal  woof  of  true  pastoral  madrigal,  first 
in  strings. 

STRINGS. 


Soon  the  theme  pipes  higher  in  reeds,  crossing 
the  answer  of  strings  in  prettiest  maze.  After 
a  more  harmonious  close,  where  the  bass  sings 
the  motive  in  notes  of  double  length,  flutes  and 
oboes  ring  the  glee  in  higher  pitch,  against 
answers  of  lower  strings  and  horns.  Then  all 
join  in  another  friendly,  gayer  close  in  neighbor- 
ing tone. 

Our  Finale  seems  all  built  on  simplest  themal 
lines.  For,  as  strings  strike  a  comfortable,  rock- 
82 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

ing  gait,  the  tune  of  second  subject  starts  with 
mere  notes  of  chord  in  low  wood : 

(Clarinet,  doubled  below  in  fagot.) 


m^*  i  •  H 

&>    >  —  id  —  ^  — 

£?—  \  —  r  —  f  —  r— 
f> 

^|M 

—  P  ^  r 

r  t  f  f 

STRINGS. 

L          !                       t 

FLUTE'  VIOLINS. 


begun,  again,  as  canon  of  wind,  while  violins 
answer  with  almost  flippant,  chipper  phrase  that 
is  hardly  part  of  the  theme,  which  goes  winding 
on  serenely,  ever  in  alternating  verses.  Now  it 
sounds  in  higher  perch,  now  in  minor,  to  wing 
to  still  bolder  height,  where  comes  curving  ca- 
dence of  quaint  beauty.  The  idyl  descends  to 
83 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

the  first  quarter,  and  ends,  once  more  with  active 
bustling  of  all  the  chorus,  in  phrases  of  general 
import,  that  gradually  trip  to  the  motion  of  first 
theme. 

In  the  formal  recurrence  of  noisy  martial 
chorus  is  one  of  the  strongest  signs  of  the  vigor 
of  old  tradition,  that  in  later  works  merges  into 
phases  of  graver  meaning  of  truer  symbol  of 
strife. 

The  Rondo  has  no  nominal  claim  of  a  period 
sacred  to  discussion.  But  the  free  course  of  later 
symphony  blurred  these  formal  lines  of  difference. 
The  phase  of  themal  disputation  may  come  in 
song  of  Andante,  even  in  dance  of  Scherzo.  So 
here  we  cannot  miss  a  certain  serious  intent,  per- 
haps a  little  deliberate,  to  spin  the  stated  themes 
to  newer  maze  and  meaning.  The  first  theme 
is  main  text  and,  at  the  outset,  the  original  mo- 
tive ;  then  the  answer,  changed  in  uncertain  hue 
of  tone.  And  the  curve  of  bass,  that  seemed  at 
first  melodic,  now  sings  in  treble  in  inverted 
guise,  playing  the  pretty  dispute  of  bass  and  air, 
that  seems  ever  a  part  of  Beethoven's  art.  Re- 
turns the  first  motive  and  dives  into  all  shades  of 
tonal  light.  Finally  on  the  very  ending  bit  of 
motive  the  higher  voices  gambol  in  closest  chase, 
84 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

while  the  strings  keep  up  the  strumming  mo- 
tion. A  gliding  phrase  of  unison  voices  leads  to 
a  new  subject  of  talk  :  the  first  two  notes  of 
theme,  which  the  voices  toss  snucily  back  and 


(Doubled  in  wood  and  strings  above  and  below.) 


forth  in  lighter  spring  of  dance.  A  hush  and  a 
belated  note  of  the  call  bring  us  again  to  the 
round  of  full  tunes.  In  its  time  the  second 
rheme  appears  in  the  tone  of  the  first.  That 
tuneful  close  has  now  a  newer  curve,  still  with 
the  sweet  and  brave  simplicity  of  old.  All  the 
themes  have  fuller  setting  than  before.  \Vhen 
we  await  the  first  in  final  close,  here  is  a  true  jest, 
in  a  way  of  subtlest,  both,  and  simplest  fun. 
The  comfortable  swing  of  strings  makes  us  look 
at  least  for  the  broad  curve  of  second  theme. 
\nstead,  the  lower  voices  merely  dance  in  softest 
jead.  It  is  all  like  mere  accompaniment  with- 


BEETHOVEN'S   SECOND  SYMPHONY 

out  the  song,  when  we  see  the  basses,  in  mincing 
step,  descending  the  simple  motive  that  an- 
nounced the  second  theme : 


STRINGS. 


The  first  quip  of  main  subject  soon  adds  to  the 
spice  of  the  joke.  At  the  close,  with  cease  of 
dance,  the  basses  stride  the  same  figure,  with  the 
trebles  in  reversed  phrase,  once  more  in  solemn 
length  of  halved  subject.  Then  into  universal 
merry-making,  where  the  clearest  figure  is  the 
first  bit  of  main  theme,  with  repetition  of  the 
whispered  jest,  to  end  in  simplest  mood  of  mirth. 


IV 

BEETHOVEN'S  FOURTH  SYM- 
PHONY 

THE    POET    OF    PATHOS   AND    HUMOR 

BEETHOVEN'S  Fourth  Symphony,  though 
often  labelled  of  an  "  early  period,"  shows 
some  of  his  greatest  traits.  Most  evident  is  a 
certain  alternation  of  austere  profundity  and  sim- 
plest hilarity.  No  one  could  be  so  severe  as 
Beethoven,  and,  a  moment  after,  so  purely  jolly. 

It  is  an  old  and  a  new  way  to  have  a  sym- 
phony begin  Adagio.  A  man  cannot  always 
plunge  right  into  the  rush  and  strife  of  the  first 
Allegro.  Sometimes  he  must  start  the  wheels 
slowly,  have  the  figures  of  his  stirring  story  grow 
gradually  out  of  a  certain  mood  of  absorbed  re- 
flection. Haydn  used  to  do  it  with  a  kind  of 
conscious  pose.  But  you  have  the  true  vein  in 
the  seventh,  or  in  Schubert's  C  Major,  and  very 
specially  in  Schumann. 

Here  the  poet  begins  his  wandering  thought 
in  very  simple  phrases, — long  tones  descending 
in  unison,  answered  by  quick-breathed  notes  of 
87 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

violins.  Right  here  is  a  bold  touch  in  the  minor 
ninth,  sounded  at  the  clii/iax, — a  chord  that  many 
think  a  later  invention. 


(Woodwind  and  lower  strings.) 
Adagio. 
K 


The  quiet  Adagio  walk  is  wakened  by  the  noisy, 
nervous  snare  of  drum  and  the  summons  to  the 
strings  for  a  general  gathering.  Then  forth 
breaks  the  main  melodv,  first  in  violins : 


Allegro  vh'ace.     STRINGS. 

*  > 

A.       t    JL 

-=*  0  * 


±=^=    SEE^E  :^^E 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

How  this  grows  out  of  the  introduction,  so 
that  we  are  sure  it  was  not  patched  in  afterwards, 
like  a  modern  preface  !  Right  out  of  those  halt- 
ing Adagio  notes  of  the  violins  conies  the  Alle- 
gro theme,  soon  taken  up  by  the  whole  band. 
And  we  must  not  be  too  wise  and  overlook  the 
primitive  childlike  humor  of  it.  Indeed,  the  true 
poet  must  never  be  afraid  of  simplicity.  Not 
to  quote  Scripture,  the  truth  must  be  much  like 
the  old  verse  :  "  Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  .  .  ." 
There  must  be  a  guileless  directness  about  all 
great  utterance.  So  we  have  at  the  very  start, 
de  profundis, — out  of  the  depths  of  re very >  spring- 
ing the  most  sparkling  joyous  song.  It  runs 
along  through  purling  strain  ot  digressive  tune 
into  a  varied  verse,  and  then,  turning  the  corner 
to  neighboring  scene  (what  is  wisely  called  the 
second  theme),  here  are  fagot,  oboe,  and  flute 
frisking  about,  talking  back  and  forth  on  a  strain 
of  curious  charm,  with  a  certain  taste  of  demon 
mischief. 

All  the  rest  are  drawn  into  the  game,  and  the 
first  refrain  of  melodies  ends  in  a  kind  of  big 
Titanic  gambol.  As  soon  as  it  has  sung  again, 
the  meditative  hue  appears  in  the  thin  color,  the 
logical  sequence  of  phrases.  But  soon  these  are 
89 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

(Sustaining  strings.) 


-0-r 


FAGOT. 


ft  j"H^n_ 
— :&-J—*-*—± 


OBOK. 


(See  page  89,  line  ai.) 

lulled  and  rocked  by  the  magic  of  new  rhythm. 
Suddenly  the  chief"  melody  bursts  forth ;  but 
together  with  its  strain,  taken  up  along  the  line, 
is  a  new  answer :  there  is  something  more  to  be 
said  on  this  question.  And  so  you  have  the 
very  element  of  discussion. 

Ever  a  new  group  enter  with  the  song,  while 
the  preceding  or  another  sing  the  countertheme. 
Magnificently  the  noisy  chorus  tapers  down  to  a 

still,  sombre  whisper,  as  if    darkness  had  stolen 
9o 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 


(Strings,  with  main  theme  in  fagots.) 


•L.         ^L 


I    f~!r  *  > 

&&&  —  ~  —  fr  i  —  S'~J  —  =*~i  —  ^~ 

132           '             

EZ 

^  i*  i^  iji 

^r  "  -  -y-~ 

(See  page  90,  line  6.) 

over,  nothing  staying  of  the  big  dance  save  the 
pattering  of  feet  in  the  steady  rhythm.  And 
even  that  yields  at  last  to  solitary  strains  from 
strings.  Now  little  responses  are  heard ;  the 
night  is  lifting  ;  the  sombre  hue  vanishes.  Grad- 
ually all  waken  and  join  with  full  throat  in  the 
main  tune,  as  they  sang  it  at  first,  save  that  they 
cannot  restrain  new,  varying  conceits  here  and 
there.  Again  comes  the  mischievous  dialogue 
91 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

of  woodwind,  with  a  step  of  the  dance,  wherein 
Beethoven  ever  touches  earth,  and  shows  or  re- 
news his  humanity.  With  a  final  joyous  verse, 
mostly  in  the  vein  of  the  main  melody,  the 
movement  ends. 

The  Adagio  is  pure  German  folk-song,  culled 
by  Beethoven,  and  endowed  with  all  his  art  to 
express  another  side,  a  quiet  lyric  human  sympa- 
thy. It  is  all  mere  evident  song, — needs  simply 
listening,  while  all  the  time  there  is  an  accom- 
panying tap  of  slow  figure,  to  hold  a  certain 
grave  dignity. 


>       Adagio.    STRINGS. 


BEETHOVEN 'S    FOURTH   SYMPHONY 


It  is  another  instance  of  how  the  mere  suc- 
cessive sounds  of  the  scale  seem  an  inexhausti- 
ble fount  for  noblest  melody. 

The  secondary  themes  have  in  themselves  no 
special  emphasis.  They  are  all  in  the  same 
strain  of  beautiful  simplicity  and  dignity  as  the 
first ;  but  they  seem  hardly  more  than  digressive 
or  discursive  ;  they  are  like  interludes  between 
the  main  verses.  The  second  melody  comes  in 
the  same  tone  as  the  main  one,  and  herein  shows 
a  purpose  of  the  poet  to  avoid  contrast  and  nov- 
elty ;  the  main  phrase  is  hardly  more  than  an- 
swering cadence  to  another  that  is  a  rhythmic 
reinforcement  of  first  motive  of  the  theme. 

The  whole  is  mere  after-strain  of  theme,  al- 
ways in  loyal  emphasis  of  its  dominant  rhythm, 
as  of  ocean  waves.  A  tune  of  new  pathos  and 
beauty  now  sings  in  clarinets  in  neighboring 
tone.  With  all  the  distinction  of  its  own  tonal 

93 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

Adagio,  sf  sf          sf  (Strings  and  wind.) 


f  (Alternating  wind. 


(Rapid  arpeggic  figure  in  Ipwer  strings.) 
(See  page  93,  line  14.) 

quarter,  it  seems  again  a  mere  version  of  main 
theme.  But  the  melodic  essence  is  in  the  text 
of  variant,  and  not  the  rhythmic,  as  before. 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

To  break  frankly  from  an  old  rut,  this  dub- 
bing of  themes  is  often  all  misleading,  a  purely 
false  view.  Thus  in  our  Adagio  the  truth,  apart 
from  trite  lines  of  formal  chart,  is  that,  the  first 
song  over,  an  after-strain  of  true  feeling  sings,  as 
it  were,  in  the  ebb  between  recurring  tides  of  the 
big  rhythmic  pulse.  Again  and  again,  in  higher 
pitch  of  sound  and  pathos,  this  appeal  is  soothed 
by  descending  strain  in  high  wood,  affirmed  from 
still  higher  point,  while  strings  add  greatly  to 
the  rhythmic  course  of  simple  phrase  of  wood. 
In  big  rise  of  song  the  basses  take  up  this  very 
bustling  course  of  the  descending  strain,  that 
almost  turns  its  soothing  into  terror,  then  sinks 
to  solemn  hush.  The  melody  of  clarinet  thus 
comes  in  guise  of  plaintive,  shy  appeal,  answered 
once  more  by  solacing  motive,  leading  to  friend- 
liest cadence,  in  hearty  volume,  too.  A  last 
brief,  timid  word  that  seems  blended  of  plaint 
and  soothing,  turns  trustfully  to  the  full  sound 
and  big  pulse  of  recurring  theme.  We  must 
not  forget  that  it  is  not  always  the  tune  that 
tells  the  story.  Here  the  first  rhythm's  oceanic 
pulse  has  a  faint  sense  of  stolid  Fate,  against 
the  human  voice  of  the  tune.  The  verse  over, 
the  wave-beat  rises  in  tumultuous  height  of 
95 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

all  the  voices, — and  sinks  before  the  returning 
song.  We  have  seen  how,  when  the  main  mel- 
ody has  ended,  big  tides  come  swelling  in  be- 
tween the  phrases  of  after-strain,  and  then  how  a 
rhythmic  vehemence  is  added  to  soothing  an- 
swer. In  the  soft  plaint  of  clarinets  the  motion 
is  all  but  lost,  but  returns,  welling  gently  like 
lapping  waters,  to  the  friendly  answer.  The 
full  first  pulse,  even  strengthened  with  redoubled 
course  of  strings,  comes  with  the  after-word  that 
preceded  the  return  of  main  melody. 

Henceforward  the  theme  in  its  regular  song  is 
softened  by  new  grace  of  setting.  But  in  the 
midst  of  this  verse  there  is  a  dramatic  play  of 
opposite  elements,  In  fullest  volume  of  all  the 
chorus  a  stern  phrase,  like  evil  daemon  of  the 
gentle  melody,  descends,  to  big  strumming 
basses.  Suddenly  out  of  the  cadence,  in  new 
light,  two  voices  in  higher  strings  alone  flit 
about  in  timid  canon  of  vague,  homeless  phrase. 
They  seek  for  refuge  here  and  there,  while  the 
first  pulse  sounds  ill-boding  in  dim  depths.  Then 
presently  the  home  tone  is  found,  where  all  the 
full  song  flows  along  to  the  end,  decked  in  still 
friendlier  figure.  The  trait  of  dual  idea,  of  ex- 
ternal fate  and  subjective  plaintive  hope,  that 
96 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 


finds  full  room  in  the  Fifth,  here  spreads  a 
graver  hue  o'er  the  less  tragic  song  of  early 
symphony. 

Again  the  native  vigor  of  the  poet  rings  in 
the  Scherzo.  There  he  has  cast  loose  the  lead- 
ing-strings of  the  graceful  minuet.  A  certain 
roughness,  an  element  of  Titan,  there  always 
is  about  Beethoven's  humor,  not  wanting  right 
in  these  first  bars,  with  the  rude  strength  of  the 
theme : 

(Strings  doubled  above  in  wood,  with  strengthening  brass.) 
Allegro  vivace.  ^  K [       UJ j_ 

— ^r*~  —  9 


rrr 


m 


(BassanSve  lower.) 


in  great  contrast  with  the  misty  flight  of  impish 
answer,  in  flickering  shift  of  tonal  light. 


CLARINET  AND  FAGOT. 


_,       I  ,    J— ,    fc  .    J       |       ,  , 


5 


( Strings  doubled  below. ) 


97 


BEETHOVEN'S    FOURTH   SYM PHONY 

After  repetition,  the  first  motive  flies  off  to  distant 
scene  of  romantic  color,  and  there  has  the  pace 
and  air  of  elfish  answer,  dancing  about  in  mazing 
change  of  light  and  figure,  darting  high  in  the 
wood,  gliding  deep  in  strings  as  if  in  chase  of  its 
own  echo, — all  a  mystic  gleam  of  fairy-land, — 
then  bursting  into  the  clear,  bright  humor  of 
mortals,  as  at  first.  The  answer  leads  to  tumul- 
tuous cadence  on  the  first  tone. 

The  Trio,  since  early  days,  has  come  to  be  a 
gentle  retreat  from  boisterous  fun, — at  most, 
quietly  playful, -^-often  with  a  touch  of  special 
sentiment. 

Here,  the  Scherzo  began  its  rough  revel  in 
strange  jolting  against  the  natural  pace, — in  type 
of  that  broad,  primal  humor  of  Beethovens,  that 
is  ever  balanced  with  a  profound  sympathy,  as 
personal  traits  of  his  art.  No  doubt,  to  the  world 
at  large  it  may  seem  a  word  of  shocking  bold- 
ness :  that  nowhere  in  the  whole  treasure-house 
of  art  and  poetry  are  these  two  elements  of  feel- 
ing uttered  with  greater  vigor.  The  world  is  not 
accustomed,  in  strange  lack  of  rounded  view,  to 
count  the  tonal  poet  among  its  prime  influences, 
perhaps  because  he  is  the  youngest  of  them  all. 

Yet  to  find  a  like  note  of  deepest,  firmest  sym- 
98 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

pathy,  we  must  pass  over  whole  literatures  of 
nations,  of  Latin  or  of  Teuton,  with  doubt  of 
old  Greek  tragedy,  and  sureness  only  in  the  words 
of  highest  moral  teacher.  It  is  quite  true,  though 
again  it  may  shock  our  unaccustomed  ears,  that 
the  depth  of  soothing  in  Beethoven's  great  An- 
dantes is  nowhere  passed  save  in  the  prophets  of 
holy  writ  and  in  the  later  words  of  the  great 
Preacher  on  the  Mount.  That  broad  sense 
of  brotherhood  seems  to  have  sprung  first  in 
the  prophetic  song  of  the  religious  race,  and 
next  in  its  crowning  figure,  the  moral  Savior  of 
mankind.  The  later  formulations  not  merely 
clouded  the  precious  basic  love  of  kind ;  they 
served  as  special  means  and  cause  of  men's  recoil 
to  artificial  privilege,  of  this  world  and  the  next. 
In  the  great  burst  for  freedom  and  like  human 
rights,  Beethoven  was  the  tonal  prophet.  The 
setting  of  Schiller's  "  Ode  to  Universal  Joy,"  in 
his  ninth  symphony,  was  not  the  only  evidence. 
In  the  Andante  of  almost  every  symphony  Bee- 
thoven stands  the  clear  sturdy  poet  of  fraternity. 
The  other  cause  for  which  men  strove — the  lesser, 
of  equality — is  uttered  with  Titanic  force  in 
other  parts  of  later  symphony. 

But  one  truth  needs  strongest  proclamation, 

99 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

that  music  bears  the  message  of  highest  human 
need.  In  the  great  moral  lines,  Beethoven  is 
the  clearest  prophet  of  the  newer  age.  And  once 
more  we  must  not  forget  that  one  may  feel  the 
message  without  actual  conscious  sense  of  all  its 
verbal  import,  although  the  knowledge  will  surely 
help  the  true  reception. 

The  sense  of  justice  and  equality  strikes  in 
each  least  revolution.  But  the  far  deeper,  under- 
lying note  of  universal  kinship  sings  a  much 
rarer  song.  Here  towers  the  stature  of  our  mas- 
ter high  o'er  the  mere  Rousseaus,  ana  rings  his 
strain  ot  keenest  sense  ot  kind,  in  deepest  vein 
of  all  our  Christian  poetry. 

It  is  here  must  lie  the  noblest  trait  of  Bee 
thoven  and  his  work ;  and  well  it  needs  a  noting 
in  this  very  day.  For,  that  greatest  sense  that 
man  can  have  of  other  humankind,  that  final 
evolution  from  first  stage  of  brute,  as  it  is  sel- 
dom felt,  so  it  is  most  quickly  lost.  It  could 
not  come  to  Roman  bard,  against  the  conquering 
spirit  of  his  race.  Nor  can  it  come  to  modern 
nation's  poetry,  where  sways  the  brute  pride  of 
overpowering  force.  For,  all  opposed,  a  moral 
strife  and  victory  is  this,  that  joins  both  parties 
in  the  firmest  bonds.  The  highest  poets,  whom 


BEETHOVEN'S    FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

otherwise  the  world  acclaims,  it  is  clear  to  all 
who  read,  have  each  touched  on  this  great  idea. 
Few  they  are  in  the  force  of  message  ;  and,  of 
them  all,  since  the  first  stirring  words  of  golden 
rule,  Beethoven  is  both  clearest  and  most  human. 
(Nor  can  the  true  music  lover  fail  to  mind,  that 
praise  of  the  master  brings  the  greater  praise  of 
the  ait  itself.) 

So,  in  the  subtler  element  of  humor,  there  is 
no  doubt  again  that  Beethoven  stands  as  one  of 
the  chief  creative  spirits.  In  Titanic  boldness 
of  thought  and  contrast,  in  big  comic  sense  of 
rollicking  fun,  we  can  hardly  prefer  an  Aris- 
tophanes or  a  Shakespeare.  One  gets  nearer 
the  mystic  element  in  the  wild  fancies  of  a  Jean 
Paul  Richter ;  a  Teuton  sense  of  big  truth,  long 
suppressed  through  national  neglect,  is  seen  to 
emerge  with  irresistible  vitality.  The  quality  of 
this  strange  vein  of  all-embracing  humor  lies 
perhaps  in  bold  surmounting  of  all  human  ills 
with  the  triumphant  vigor  of  a  resolute  mirth. 
The  woes  and  littleness  of  actual  things  are  lost 
for  them  in  the  broad  universal  view.  If  we 
may  rank  poets  as  prophets,  and  mere  seers,  this 
humor  is  of  the  latter.  The  solace,  of  moral 
prophet,  comes  first ;  second,  the  cheer  of  humor. 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

But  there  is  more,  still,  in  the  vein  of  Beethoven 
Scherzo.  The  triumphant  joy  belongs  more  to 
last  of  word  of  Allegro  Finale.  There  is,  in 
Scherzo,  an  idea  of  pure  amusement, — a  com- 
mon touch  of  oldest  puppet-show.  Here  the 
stage  is  the  great  world  of  sparkling  opposites, 
on  which  we  look  with  perennial  laughter. 
Spectators,  here,  we  are,  or  seers.  The  cheer 
comes  from  the  absorbed  glance  on  this  big 
cosmic  comedy.  Here  lies  the  change  from 
the  mere  joy  of  last  Allegro  phase,  where  we 
ourselves  act  in  triumphant  deed.  The  ethical 
phase  here  returns;  the  poet  is  prophet  again. 
The  change  to  earlier  Menuet  from  the  true 
Scherzo  is  almost  to  a  vein  of  flippant  fun.  At 
least  the  strong,  bold  undertone  is  absent  until 
the  great  symphonies  of  Mozart.  It  seems  this 
a  mighty  step  from  mere  effort  to  amuse  and 
please,  to  a  spontaneous,  individual  poet-vein. 
Most  striking  is  the  harvest  of  poetic  thought  that 
blossomed  from  the  toil  of  formal  workmanship. 

In  the  Trio,  as  the  rough  jolting  is  gone,  the 
tune  seems  to  fly  the  smoother.  With  the  lesser 
speed  is  more  of  intimate  sentiment,  as  the  bois- 
terous fun  recedes.  Yet  there  is  a  sense  of  the 
pace  that,  in  its  height,  approaches  rest;  the 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 


quickest  flight  does  seem  to  bring  all  the  delight 
of  quiet  ease.  A  very  personal  kind  of  confi- 
dence it  is,  too,  with  the  utmost  directness  and 


naivete. 


TRIO.     Un  poco  meno  Allegro, 
do  Ice.  . 

I          J 


4_, I J  .    I    K    i *   .  r> 


(Oboe  and  Clarinet,  doubled 
below  in  fagots.) 


VIOLINS. 


And  here   it   is  seen  particularly  in   the  quaint 
childlike  cadences. 


And  the  cheerful  flute  sings  a  laughing  strain 
of  assent  after  each  phrase  of  the  melody.  Later, 
the  strings  make  a  primitive  kind  of  lumbering 
bass,  to  which  the  simple  song  of  the  theme  is 
repeated,  still  with  the  same  quaint  cadences. 
Then  the  whole  orchestra  rise^to  a  fervent  climax 
as  of  pious  hymn. 

In   the  Finale  is  the   chief  difference   in  im- 
103 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

portance  between  this  work  and  the  more  tamous 
symphonies.  Beethoven  here  still  followed  the 
older  tradition,  which  was  to  leave  the  main  stress 
with  the  first  Allegro.  Mozart's  .Jupiter  was  the 
first  great  exception,  and  Beethoven  generally 
tended  to  shift  the  centre  of  gravity  towards  the 
end.  The  Finale  is  not  so  long  nor  so  seriously 
.conceived  as  the  last  movement  of  the  third, 
the  fifth,  or  the  seventh. 

It  begins  in  a  spirit  of  midsummer  frolic,  not 
without  great  breadth,  on  a  theme  broken  be- 
tween first  and  second  violins  : 


Allegro  ma  non  troppo. 


• 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

Then  the  strings  run  along  in  sequences  on 
the  first  tew  notes  until  the  leaders  sing  forth  a 
real  tune  at  last. 


WOODWIND. 


But  soon  they  relapse  into  the  whirling  move- 
ment on  the  vigorous  motive,  until,  resting  on  a 
neighboring  scene,  they  listen  to  the  song  of  the 
oboe  with  accompanying  clarinet.  It  is  care- 
lessness itself,  the  second  theme,  a  regular  holiday 
tune. 

105 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 


OBOE. 


dolce. 


_ 


^   (Clarinet,  with  sustaining  strings.) 

And  then  how  fresh  sounds  the  answer  in  sim- 
plest change  of  tonal  scene  ! 


(Clarinet  with  staccato  strings  in  the  harmony.) 

On  these  strains  the  strings  discourse  a  while, 
the  tune  singing  in  the  bass  with  new  melodic 
treble.  The  wood  suggest  a  new  idea  to  which 
all  assent,  and  they  ring  out  their  nodding  refrain 
to  a  climax  of  vehemence,  where  the  original 
motive  beats  through  the  wild  harmony.  Twice 
this  climax  is  relieved  by  a  light  cadence.  The 
vehemence  is  lost,  and  the  statement  ends  like  an 

106 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

STRINGS. 


WOOD.  N  J> 

^^^i-^-^^-^^-^M^F^ 

^PEHTtt—iL.;n^^^a:^ 


f 


=  =fc=fc= 


^£ 


(With  tremolo  of  violas.)        (Added  flute  and  horns.) 
(See  page  1 06,  line  6.) 

old  round  dance  or  song  where  opposite  figures 
change  places : 

STRINGS. 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

After  the  discussion,  the  strings  are  chatting 
away  quite  aimlessly  on  a  subject  that  seems  not 
much  weightier  than  the  weather.  Yet  how- 
relevant  it  proves  to  the  main  theme  !  But  here 
are  some  curious  things.  As  the  garrulous 
strings  keep  running  indefinitely  on  their  old 
motive,  suddenly  there  is  a  loud  protesting  single 
note,  as  if  to  say :  this  must  really  stop.  Then 
the  lower  unison  strings  sing  out  the  little  an- 
swering air  in  boldest  change  of  scene,  actually 
without  chords.  All  alone  they  sing  the  mere 
air  alone,  that,  somehow,  has  its  own  implied 
harmony. 

\Vhat  is  the  mystery  when  single  voice  strikes 
change  of  tone,  when  single  touch  opens  a  new 
scene?  It  is  the  whole  harmony  of  all  the 
figures  that  marks  the  usual  scene  and  color. 
One  note  may  be  of  one  or  of  the  other, — as  a 
single  tree  in  landscape,  though  in  the  given 
region  it  may  alone  point  the  resting-place.  It 
is  in  the  relation  of  all  the  figures  that  lie  the 
quality  and  charm  of  region. 

In  olden  days,  in  grayest  age  of  music's  birth, 

there  were  but  single  tones ;  and  so   there  was 

but  one  well-worn  scene,  or  almost  none  at  all. 

The  word  cannot  be  used  without  the  sense  of 

1 08 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

color.  Here  is  the  bold,  charming  touch  of  the 
stray  voice  groping  back  to  friendly  region,  and 
then  the  others  join  in  reassuring  echo.  Our 
voices  may  be  of  double  symbol,  of  place  and  of 
inhabitant ;  yet  the  hidden  feeling  may  become 
the  clearer. 

For  a  time  there  threatens  a  technical  discus- 
sion by  iu gal  rule.  There  is  an  echoing  dispute, 
the  simple  and  redoubled  pace  of  new  motive, 
that  springs  quite  casually,  though  with  melodic 
point,  from  phrase  of  bass  while  the  original  air 
is  running  in  and  out. 

But  the  discussion  is  never  very  serious.  It 
merely  whets  the  desire  tor  the  rollicking  dance 
in  the  whirling  figure  of  the  first  phrase,  which 
leads  back  to  the  main  melodies.  Once  more 
come  all  the  events  of  the  first  verse,  not  for- 
getting the  little  round,  with  exchange  of  figures. 
At  last,  quite  needlessly,  all  join  again  in  the 
main  tune  and  dance  to  a  fierce  point.  After 
the  lull,  as  the  basses  stealthily  hum  the  little  run, 
like  gentle  drone  of  hurdy-gurdy,  the  high  strings 
sing  right  at  the  same  time  the  tuneful  answer.  A 
phrase  of  farewell  has  its  timid  say,  answered  by 
parting  climax  of  the  running  theme.  There  is 
a  pause.  In  pretty  play  of  twice  as  slow  a  pace, 

109 


BEETHOVEN'S   FOURTH  SYMPHONY 

the  theme  goes  with  deliberate  step  half-way  and 
stops.  The  fagots  sing  four  more  notes  to  a 
halt,  and  so  the  low  strings  next.  Then  all  the 
chorus  with  big  festive  noise  and  speed  scamper 
down  and — out. 


BEETHOVEN'S  EIGHTH  SYM- 
PHONY 

AN    EPIC    OF   HUMOR 

THE  Eighth  Symphony  has  not  the  stress 
of  the  Fifth  nor  of  the  Seventh  ;  its  dimen- 
sions are  less  in  every  sense.  Not  that  they 
measure  the  Symphony.  It  is  frankly  playful, 
teaches  no  lesson  whatever.  Almost,  we  might 
say,  it  came  as  apology  for  the  sternness  of  the 
Fifth,  the  experiment  of  the  Sixth,  and  even,  as 
of  future  shadow,  of  the  basic  departure  of  the 
Ninth.  It  is  most  akin,  in  general  cast,  to  the 
Seventh,  but  much  simpler  of  pretence:  one 
big  scherzo  of  its  own.  It  strikes  no  depth  of 
profound  sympathy.  So  it  lacks  a  certain  per- 
spective or  relief.  As  symphony,  it  is  certainly 
not  typical.  The  absence  of  true  andante  makes 
it  exceptional.  Its  charm  is  therefore  no  less, 
rather  greater,  as  undisturbed  epic  of  merii. 
ment.  There  are  no  great  contrasts  of  mood, 
few  darker  hues;  the  brightness  has  no  help 
from  contrasting  shadows.  Yet  it  has  its  broad 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

reaches,  bold  flights,  big  views.  In  a  way  it  is  a 
reversion  to  the  old  type  of  Haydn,  the  jolly 
symphony  of  the  salon  of  good  old  times,  where 
the  composer  had  no  business  to  do  aught  but 
amuse.  A  higher  sort  of  court  fool  after  all,  in 
a  way,  was  our  "  Papa"  Haydn. 

In  complete  abandon,  careless  of  all  responsi- 
bility and  expectation  bred  of  the  master's  earlier 
designs,  this  work  was  born  ;  and  in  this  defiant 
spontaneity  lies  assurance  of  its  special  charm. 
We  may  philosophize,  if  we  feel  we  must.  Just 
the  right  quantity  of  pathos  cannot  be  deter- 
mined by  prescription  to  make  a  symphony. 
There  may  be  a  world  all  of  humor, — a  life- 
view  all  of  merriment.  There  has  been  such  a 
philosophy.  For  the  sage  who  went  about 
laughing  at  everything,  this  work  is  a  special 
symphony,  a  mirror  of  his  world.  If  we  must 
have  a  tragic  symphony  or  pathetic,  why  not  a 
comic?  Humor  has  as  much  right  to  over- 
emphasis as  has  pathos,  perhaps  a  little  more. 

Clinging  to  our  idea  of  the  symphony  as  a 
kind  of  view  of  life  of  the  poet,  here  the  merry 
side  has  its  own  paramount  place,  a  true  comedy 
in  the  big  sense  of  "  Much  Ado  About  Nothing," 
of  **  As  You  Like  It."  Secure,  we  listen,  of  no 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

deaths  or  funerals, — a  jolly  carnival  though  quite 
serious  and  sober  in  scope,  not  fearing  to  touch 
the  ground  note.  But  for  once,  instead  of  a 
sympathy  big  for  all  sorrows  (like  the  Fifth),  it 
cozens  you  gently  and  cheerily  out  of  your  sad- 
ness, wrings  a  laugh  from  the  tears,  brushes  away 
the  frowns  with  lightest  touch. 

A  type  of  jolly  serenity  is  the  first  theme : 


Allegro  vivace  e  con  brio. 


Full  orchestra,  with  redoubled  theme  and  harmony. ) 


Allegro  vivace  e  con  brio.  Nothing  ominous 
or  profound.  The  tradition  of  Haydn's  light 
abandon  has  lingered  in  the  theme  through  all 
the  stress  of  the  Fifth,  the  sternness  of  Third, 
and  the  brilliant  completeness  of  Seventh.  The 
list  of  instruments  is  of  old  economy;  trom- 
bones are  not  used  at  all.  After  the  first  theme 
is  started  in  gay  canter,  it  is  carried  on  by  gallop- 
ing strings  and  a  pompous  figure  dimly  drawn 


BEETHOVEN'S   EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

from  main  subject,  where  again  the  motion  is 
more  than  the  tune,  and  you  can  go  indefinitely 
on  the  fillip  in  constant  sequence  of  the  slight 
motion  ;  for,  the  smaller  the  phrase,  the  better  for 
rearing  structure. 

The  woodwind  do  no  more  than  shout  a 
regular  acclaim  as  often  as  they  are  allowed. 
All  this  simmers  down  pretty  solemnly,  when 
out  of  the  hushed  and  halted  motion  the  second 
theme  sings  cheerily,  though  gently,  almost 
timidly,  with  a  touch,  too,  of  jaunty  humor  in 
grateful  change  of  tonal  scene. 

STRINGS. 


BEETHOVEN'S   EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 


Our  second  melody  emerges  in  charming  shift 
of  quarter ;  but  in  its  second  verse  approaches 
the  more  familiar  scene.  Then,  starting  for  the 
moment  in  anxious,  hushed  trembling,  in  gather- 
ing ascent  of  volume,  it  finally  bursts  in  chorus 
on  simplest  cadent  figure  : 


(Redoubled  in  full  orchestra.) 

-»— <— J 

*=? 


>o ra^  •  — 


to  which  the  answer  is  one  of  the  most  charming 
spots.     It  is  gently  sung 

(Oboes  and  higher  flutes.) 


in  solo  voices  of  wood,  each  of  which  takes  up  the 

verse  in  turn,  where  quicker  figures  are  entwined 

in   the    strings.     Again    bursts  forth  the   noisy 

"5 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

chorus,  just  like  Haydn's  frightening  places  ;  and 
once  again  a  responsive  episode  leads  gradually 
to  a  big  climax  in  the  old  way. 

Now  all  is  duly  repeated  according  to  rule. 
Then,  as  the  bass  keeps  softly  jogging  the  former 
noisy  gait,  stray  bits  of  first  theme  are  gently 
discussed  in  woodwind  in  a  clear  way  that  is 
somehow  lost  of  late.  In  bursts  the  last  noisy 
cadence.  This  alternating  game,  a  little  old- 
fashioned,  reminding  of  Gluck,  goes  on  for  some 
time,  but  always  with  scenal  change.  Indeed 
this  is  almost  the  whole  of  it.  As  first  we  stray 
into  dim  shadows  and  suddenly  dart  into  brilliant 
sunshine,  once  more  wander  into  gray  shadows 
and  emerge  into  boldest  light  of  all.  Here  the 
game  is  stopped.  Instead,  against  trembling 
strings  and  crashes  of  wood,  loud  basses  rumble 
the  theme  in  rough  minor.  Merely  the  first 
theme  rushes  along,  not  waiting  for  the  former 
answer,  impetuously,  as  new  text  of  its  own,  ever 
followed  by  united  plaudits  of  wood. 

The  motive  is  transferred  to  high  wood,  group 
echoing  group  in  eager  cries.  On  a  new  height 
of  the  structure  all  the  trebles  hold  the  motive, 
echoed  far  down  in  bass.  Once  more  there  is 
a  whirling  mass  of  excited  cries  of  this  incipient 

116 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

motive.  At  last,  at  the  final  climax,  it  is  per- 
mitted to  return  to  its  original  channel  on  full- 
blown theme.  Only,  it  sings  in  resounding  bass 
with  trembling  harmony  above,  though  repeated 
in  soft  wood.  But  the  basses  are  more  important 
now  ;  have  much  more  to  say.  The  lesser  figure, 
which  followed  the  theme  with  rocking  motion, 
is  more  of  melodic  phrase,  and  is  echoed  by  the 
bass. 

As  before,  the  gently  skipping,  cheery  second 
tune  comes  singing  along  and  leads  to  the  same 
short  burst  of  chorus.  Charmingly  as  before 
follows  the  madrigal  of  timidly  trustful  voices 
of  wood,  entwined  by  tuneful  figure  of  strings. 
Instead  of  ending,  in  a  dim  distant  quarter  the 
first  melody  sings  or  whispers  a  verse  in  slow 
clarinets.  The  answer  is  softly  mocked  by 
strings.  Then  all  the  strings  in  four  groups  play 
whispering  a  kind  of  canon,  or  game  of  chase  with 
snatches  of  this  very  answer.  They  get  noisier. 
At  last  all  the  chorus  take  courage  and  sing  the 
main  melody  lustily  with  all  the  responsive  play, 
inverting  tune  if  needs  be  both  ways  at  once,  all 
in  big  frolic.  Once  more  the  plaintive  madrigal 
of  second  melody  is  sweetly  sung.  But  soon 

it  is  caught  in  the  drollery  and  noise,  and  the 
117 


BEETHOVEN'S   EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

whole  ends  in  shouting  and  shuffling  on  the  first 
motive. 

Allegretto. 

WOODWIND. 


Allegretto.  The  great  charm  is  this  light 
dancing  shuffle  all  in  regular  sprightly  time,  like 
chorus  of  dancers  with  the  main  figure  behind 
the  scenes,  which  suddenly  appears  with  all  usual 
grace.  The  most  delightful  prank  in  the  world, 
as  if  a  good  confessor  or  confidant,  instead  of 
meeting  you  at  the  usual  time,  with  long  face 

1x8 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

and  responsive  consoling  grief,  were  gayly  and 
roguishly  to  laugh  you  out  of  it  all.  For  here 
is  the  second  movement,  the  appointed  time 
for  pathos,  sighs  and  tears  maybe,  and  we  are 
absolutely  cheated  out  of  our  sad  comfort  and, 
what  is  more,  made  to  dance  a  jolly  turn  instead 
with  the  gay  deceiver  himself.  Can  anything 
be  more  humiliating  than  to  have  to  laugh  at 
your  own  woes? 

There  is  no  resisting  the  mincing,  dancing, 
rascally  humor  of  the  step.  At  the  very  start, — 
not  too  fast,  a  kind  of  deliberate,  teasing,  sup- 
pressed bit  of  humor,  where  wood  are  lightly 
shuffling  and  high  strings  are  striking  the  tune, 
really  a  sort  of  duet  as  of  mocked  pedantry.  It 
is  marked  all  the  more  with  a  little  echo  way 
down  in  string  basses. 

On  goes  the  sprightly  strain  with  a  slight  change 
of  tone  and  tune.  A  new  prank  comes,  when, 
as  the  tune  begins  again,  the  whole  chorus  shout 
with  most  alarming  volume,  just  for  a  moment, 
and  then  the  tune  goes  singing  right  along  with  its 
old  mock  seriousness,  as  if  nothing  had  happened 
or  were  ever  to  happen  again.  And  here  is  another 
touch  of  drollery,  as  in  dancing  cadence  high 

violins  strike  the  light  figure  (which  begins  with 
119 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

the  theme),  and  instantly  the  clumsy  low  basses 
imitate,  sometimes  coming  in  in  a  belated,  in- 
effective way  and  the  more  comic.  More  fright- 
ening bursts  and  other  queer  surprises, — unex- 
pected lulls  and  stops.  Then  on  again  with  the 
tune  in  all  its  innocent  pertness  of  teasing, 
mincing  step.  But  here  a  new  jolly  song  rings 
out  lustily,  the  tune  in  strings,  shuffling  step  in 
the  wood ;  in  the  low  basses  still  the  old  skip- 
ping figure  as  if  they  had  forgotten  to  leave  off: 


At  the  end  the  basses  make  an  utterly  unneces- 
sary, terrible  noise,  running  up  and  down  the 
strings,  and  do  it  again  soon  afterwards,  rudely 
interrupting  a  very  harmless  discussion  of  timid 
voices  in  strings  and  wood  on  snatches  they  had 
just  heard,  though  it  isn't  quite  free  from  a  sus- 
picion of  mischief  as  the  voices  softly  whisper  in 
quaintly  broken  snatches  taken  up  here,  there, 


BEETHOVEN'S   EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

and  again,  like  dashing  fire-flies.     Now  a  broad, 
tuneful,  sweetly  serious  sort  of  phrase 


trings  in  quicker 
rhythmic  figure.) 

comes  sweeping  along  for  a  moment's  rest  from 
the  fun,  a  true  human  word,  a  quick  assurance  of 
real  sympathy,  though  there  is  still  a  mincing 
step  in  the  answer.  But  it  is  repeated  and  the 
feeling  is  sustained  a  while,  as  the  voices  gradu- 
ally return  from  the  neighboring  tone  to  the  old, 
and  the  fun  begins  again,  all  the  fresher  for  the 
break.  Now  the  former  course  of  tune  and 
tricks  all  returns.  But  as  the  main  melody 
repeats,  after  the  basses  have  had  their  first  refrain 
far  down,  a  jolly  variation  of  the  air  sings  out, 
prancing  gayly  across  the  old  outline,  like  daring 
rope-dancer,  and  coming  out  all  right. 

But  here  with  all  the  fun,  as  the  tune  goes 
swinging  on,  a  new  feeling  is  blended.     Some- 


BEETHOVEN'S   EIGHTH   SYMPHONY 

thing  of  intimate  appeal  creeps  into  the  dance  as 
the  air  beautifully  extends  and  soon  expands 
into  lusty  second  tune,  where  still  the  comic 
basses  are  skipping  away  all  alone  in  the  old 
step,  and  again,  as  before,  come  breaking  in  with 
that  frightful  run  in  a  most  annoying  way,  with 
their  very  strange  idea  of  a  joke.  Later  the 
broad  phrase  of  friendly  assurance  returns.  Still 
the  roguish  whispers  on  skipping  figure  are  more 
surprising  than  before,  broken  into  by  most  tre- 
mendous shouts  of  every  living  throat  about,  all 
in  quickest  possible  step,  too,  all  ending  in  one 
more  romp  on  the  pure  dance  itself,  though 
some  are  going  two  and  even  four  steps  to 
one,  swelling  once  more  from  softest  whisper  to 
loudest  din. 

Menuetto..  The  minuet  has  an  unwonted 
swing,  though  of  course  in  three-step  time,  but 
it  seems  less  like  a  dance  than  a  sweep  of  one 
big  motion  for  the  three  lesser  ones,  and  the 
tune  is  a  regular  song  with  a  good  burst  in  the 
midst;  you  could  sing  words  to  it  and  forget 
to  dance.  After  it  is  repeated  with  a  special 
sense  of  freshness,  it  darts  off  to  a  neighboring 
tone;  but  instead  of  the  full  tune  the  first 
bit  is  passed  down  the  line  of  strings  by  the 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH   SYMPHONY 

Tempo  di  Menuetto. 


(Strings  accented  and  doubled  above.) 


(See  page  izx,  line  zo. ) 

pleasantest  sort  of  trick  of  retort,  and  then  up 
again  in  a  much  jollier  way  still,  getting  noisily 
back  to  the  first,  the  home  tone. 

Here  the  voices  simmer  down  on  playful 
phrase  until  the  main  tune  returns,  now  down  in 
fagots  with  low  murmuring  strings,  with  gently 
telling  effect.  Soon,  of  course,  this  mounts  to 
another  joyous  height,  where  ends  the  first  verse 
(the  strict  scherzo),  with  an  odd  sort  of  round 
"3 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

clog  on    the   first  notes    of    theme,  where  one 
group  strike  in  on  the  heels  of  another. 

In  the  Trio  the  fun  has  pretty  much  vanished. 
It  is  merely  a  true  German  folk-song  in  simplest 
lines  and  mood.  Mostly  the  horns  lead  with  the 
air  just  like  an  old  song  of  love  or  hunt. 


HORNS 


Oboes  answer,  followed  in  kind  ot  canon  by 
horns  and  cellos.  In  the  Trio's  second  part  (each 
is  repeated)  the  motive  of  melody  is  simply 
played  in  dimmer  minor,  while  the  preceding 
124 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

canon  phrase  still  goes  threading  its  consecutive 
course. 

Soon  a  darker,  shadier  scene  is  .reached,  where 
the  folk-song  now  sounds  in  full  strings,  the 
thread  still  running  in  the  horns,  and  reaches  a 
hearty  conclusion.  Suddenly  it  shifts  to  the  old 
scene,  singing  the  same  heart-felt  strain,  now  in 
horns.  Carried  farther,  the  song,  in  responsive 
and  successive  step,  has  a  fervent  though  gentle 
burst,  while  the  first  motive  ever  sounds  far  down 
in  basses  with  its  slight  trip  against  the  smooth 
appeal  of  a  newer  cadent  figure.  Oft  rehearsed 
is  this  burst,  then  dies  down  to  a  hallowed  hush 
of  horns  and  strings,  whence  the  scherzo  sings 
once  more  its  merrier  strain. 

Finale.  In  the  Finale  is  a  bigger  rhythmic 
swing  (a  little  too  big,  perhaps,  for  traditional 
notation),  one  of  those  great  reaches  that  Bee- 
thoven seemed  to  call  from  a  stranger,  higher 
sphere,  conceived  in  a  freer  flight  than  we  are 
tuned  to  in  our  scientific,  "  practical"  age : 

Allegro  vivace. 


pp  STRINGS. 

%  125 


(Doubted  below.) 


BEETHOVEN'S   EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

(Doubled  below.) 


The  theme  seems  mere  rhythmic  idea  ;  but  the 
answer  is  more  articulate  song  of  gladness,  on 
big  soaring  wing,  though,  to  be  sure,  all  in  softer 
strings : 


aJLJ      J      - 


i 


STRINGS. 


which  play  a  while  with  strange  hollow  effect  on 
the  first  motive.  Then,  in  loudest  unison  of  all, 
the  whole  song  is  rehearsed;  or  rather  the  re- 
hearsing came  first  and  this  is  the  regular  full 
verse. 

In  a  new  stride  the  basses  have  worked  them- 
selves into,  they  march  ahead  without  heed  of 
concluded  verse,  in  a  kind  of  special  melodic 
consciousness . 

126 


BEETHOVEN'S   EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 


I 


while  strings  are  trembling  on  in  the  old  way 
and  bursts  of  wood  point  the  pace.  The  high 
wood  now  have  a  feeling  for  the  tune  and  sing 
it  as  it  mounts  reversed  in  the  basses,  while  the 
strings  tremble  on  in  the  first  motion.  The  scene 
slightly  darkens,  and  now  the  striding  tune  has 
lapsed  into  mere  retorts  en  masse  in  full  force. 
Suddenly,  hushed  in  distant  quarter,  a  real  melody, 
that  makes  all  the  rest  prelude  to  its  song,  sings 
rapturously  in  strings  and,  just  before  the  close 
of  phrase,  the  oboe  chimes  in  a  most  sweetly 
concluding  strain  : 


STRINGS. 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

The  song  wings  on  its  freer  course  and  then, 
with  a  fresh  delight  of  returning  to  home  tone, 
sings  against  broader  swaying  of  strings,  while 
lower  wood  now  join,  like  the  former  oboe,  in 
the  tuneful  concluding  medley.  On  the  latter 
motive,  wood  and  strings  start  in  timid,  anxious 
ascent  in  strange  cross-purpose  of  rhythm,  then 
descend.  The  same  journey  is  taken  up  by  all 
in  bold  spirit,  and  on  safe  return  the  manful 
stride  resumes  to  original  tonal  region. 

Here,  after  a  few  timid  tries  at  the  motive,  tht 
main  theme  sings  again  as  at  first ;  but  instead  of 
echoing  chorus,  timidity  reigns  again,  and  against 
trembling  strings  a  long,  anxious,  whispered  dis- 
cussion follows  on  answer  of  main  theme : 


(Higher  flute.) 

' 


STRINGS. 

FLUTE,  OBOE, AND  FAGOT. 

4  *  " 


[          =s 

.  1     p\.  —  * 


128 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

voices  entering  without  waiting  for  others  to 
vanish.  Three  or  four  are  attacking  at  once 
the  same  strain  in  different  kind  of  suit  and 
pitch  ;  a  few  are  singing  bits  reversed  ;  the  whole 
subject  is  gone  over.  Then  some  kind  of  order 
is  restored  and  high  cellos  and  low  violins  are 
given  the  floor.  To  be  sure,  they  start  together  in 
opposite  direction,  but  precisely  agreeing  in  each 
rhythmic  turn.  Soon  another  pair  are  cham- 
pions ;  the  middle  strings  are  sent  off  discoursing 
the  same  way.  They  cannot  help  getting  tangled 
later  with  others.  The  strings  seem  to  have  a 
hopdess  tendency  to  argue.  For  some  time  a 
strange  call  in  two  long  notes  has  been  heard 
again  and  again,  liere  and  there,  above  and  below. 
It  enters  often  crashing  against  the  clash  of  quar- 
relling strings.  Dimly  we  are  forced  back  to  the 
sounds  of  incipient  second  melody  through  all 
the  strife  of  first,  and  finally  it  triumphs  and 
brings  order  and  a  burst  on  united  main  theme 
in  new  scene. 

Presently  we  have  its  original  course  home 
again.  Of  course  it  is  enriched  now  with  the 
gain  of  newer  figures,  mainly  of  striding  bass ; 
so  the  full  refrain  sounds  far  more  triumphant, 
bigger  with  wonderful  complexity,  of  rhythms, 

9  I29 


BEETHOVEN'S   EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

warring  for  the  moment.  The  old  course,  as 
after  original  verse,  continues,  of  melody,  bass 
and  retorts  of  massed  groups.  The  second 
melody  in  full  queenly  beauty  follows,  though 
still  in  newer  scene  of  sound,  with  rich  accoutre- 
ment of  melodic  vassals,  and  again,  as  before, 
returns  to  sing  on  familiar  ground.  The  anxious 
ascent  and  descent  of  wood  and  strings  into  dis- 
cordant gait  all  recur  with  a  full  choral  pursuit. 
We  ought  to  be  glad  we  are  home  again  and 
rest  for  good ;  but  we  stray  once  more. 

An  entirely  new  pace  is  set,  a  new  course  of 
ideas.  Out  of  the  silence,  in  dim  religious  light, 
violins  sound  a  chant,  descending  in  notes  of 
dirge : 


VIOLINS. 


t3fe$-i — ^mu  —    i* 
BE-i  S 


fTT 


FAGOT.  8ve.  STRINGS. 


It   is   answered   by  oboes  and   fagots,   starting 

in   opposite   direction,   but    the    old  trembling 

130 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

motion  will  not  let  go, — the  one  reminder  of  old 
frolic.  Twice  the  chant  is  duly  sung  and 
answered,  then  in  double  pair  of  ascending 
woodwind  against  descending  basses.  They  are 
met  on  high  by  a  soft  acclaim  of  the  others ; 
but  the  strings  still  tremble  on.  Now  the  mo- 
tion is  reversed.  All  this  has  been  sung  in  dread 
hush  of  tones.  Now  it  rings  out  as  full  religious 
pjean  in  four  independent  voices  of  strings  against 
loud  blasts  of  brass  and  clash  of  drum,  while  the 
woodwind  shake  a  slower,  though  more  solemn, 
vibrating  call  in  big  ecclesiastical  magnificence. 
The  chorus  proceeds  with  solemn  pomp.  At 
last  they  break  into  quicker  pace :  the  theme 
has  a  more  playn.il  ring;  the  trembling  call 
quickens  as  of  old.  Then  out  flashes  the  old 
theme,  but  in  strange,  brilliant  light. 

Finally,  in  the  gentle  lull  of  the  beginning  it 
sings  another  verse.  But  a  new  spirit  has  some- 
how crept  in  ;  for  anon  all  is  stopped  by  full 
blast  ot  chorus, — even  the  trembling  motion 
ceases.  Now,  in  overpowering  mass  the  theme 
returns ;  but  there  is  a  strange  tonal  quality,  an 
uneasy  sense  of  omen.  It  is  really  a  sort  of 
mock  fear.  In  the  very  height  of  triumphant 
joy,  or  rather  on  the  eve  of  it,  there  is  a  note  of 

'3' 


BEETHOVEN'S    EIGHTH    SYMPHONY 

uncertainty,  merely  to  increase  the  assurance 
when  it  comes,  as  it  promptly  does,  in  the  old 
familiar  scene  where  now  lesser  themes  go  chasing 
helter-skelter  to  give  the  chief  a  rest  before  the 
final  verse. 

But  before  him  his  queenly  mate  once  more 
pours  forth  her  lovely  song  in  the  very  home 
tone,  where  she  has  not  yet  sung,  where  he  him- 
self had  hitherto  held  sway.  The  beauty  infects 
even  rough  basses,  which  are  given  leave  to  sing 
a  sonorous  verse  against  the  higher  harmonies  of 
the  others ;  and  all  the  rest  is  great  rejoicing  as 
on  home-coming,  that  seems,  after  all,  to  be  the 
main  purpose  and  the  best  of  all  journeys, — 
that  leaves  some  truth  in  the  old  pedant  who 
describes  the  movements  of  ancient  sonata  in  all 
earnest :  "  The  first  to  show  what  the  composer 
can  do,  the  second  what  he  can  feel,  the  last  how 
glad  he  is  to  have  finished."  All  things  earthly 
and  even  above  are,  after  all,  an  eternal  round. 


132 


VI 

BEETHOVEN'S  SIXTH  (PAS- 
TORAL)   SYMPHONY 

TONAL   DEPICTION 

AVAKENING    of   Cheerful    Feelings   on 
arriving  in  the  Country"  is  the  title  of 
the  first  movement. 

"  Feelings"  here  is  the  key-note  that  ought  to 
pervade  the  whole  symphony.  If  it  did  per- 
vade, we  should  have  a  pastoral  whole,  as  we 
have  two  real  bucolics  in  tones.  The  first  move- 
ment begins  on  simplest  tune  in  the  strings,  that 
is  like  the  song  of  a  bird,  if  only  in  the  leisurely 
pause  before  resuming,  answered  in  four-voiced 
choir : 


Allegro  ma  non  troppo. 


STRINGS. 
(Low  C  in  basses.) 


Later  the  tune  steals  into  the  wood,  and  soon 

rings  out  in  full  chorus  with  extended  melody. 

At  the  end,  as  the  accompanying  clarinets  and 

133 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

fagots  pipe  in  triplet  motion,  the  violins  discourse 
freely  on  a  strain  of  the  tune,  and  glide  with 
ideal  ease  into  the  second  theme,  really  the  first, 
so  far  as  beauty  lends  dignity. 

And  here  the  wonderful  art  of  the  master 
appears.  The  most  difficult  feat  comes  without 
a  seeming  jot  of  toil.  The  perfect  form  does 
not  appear  at  first,  from  its  very  perfection, — the 
soprano  and  bass  are  complementary  tunes  and  at 
the  end  change  places,  without  loss  of  a  note,  so 
that  one  does  not  know  whether  to  find  the  melody 
above  or  below  ;  it  is  all  a  double  sort  of  melody. 
The  highest  art  (what  schoolmen  call  double- 
counterpoint)  comes  as  naturally  as  the  chirping 
of  a  bird.  To  write  a  second  melody  to  a  first 
is  a  feat  of  the  older  artisan ;  but  to  pour  forth  a 
double  melody  from  the  beginning,  all  uncon- 
scious of  the  feat,  was  highest  of  all,  because 
done  in  a  simple  burst  of  feeling,  not  in  pride 
of  art. 

Soon  a  third  voice  in  high  flutes  strikes  in  the 
midst  with  the  tune  of  the  bass,  and  all  the  birds 
in  the  wood  are  singing  bits  of  the  double 
song,  ending  in  half-unison,  hymn-like  cadence, 
dying  down  with  a  cheery  call  in  strings  and  a 
carolling  note  in  the  woodwind.  This  leads 
134 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

(Strings,  later  with  treble  and  bass  exactly  inverted.) 


(See  page  1 34,  line  20.  ) 

back  to  a  rehearsing  of  the  tunes  from  the  be- 
ginning. 

The  discussion  proceeds,  unhampered  by  labels, 
on  the  original  strain.  You  cannot  possibly  talk 
freely  in  music  if  everything  you  say  must  have 
a  verbal  title  and  meaning.  Fearless  of  repetition, 
the  simple  phrase  runs  along : 


135 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

modulating  through  bright  changes  of  tonal 
light  and  shade  to  a  kind  of  chorus  where  the 
theme  is  in  the  bass.  Then  the  call  is  sung 
back  and  forth  with  perfect  childlike  or  birdlike 
freedom.  For  the  nonce,  the  first  tune  interrupts 
in  fugal,  reflective  guise,  but  merely  for  the  mo- 
ment. The  call  sings  on  again  through  new 
modulations  of  tonal  light.  After  a  like  appear- 
ance of  the  first  tune  we  have  the  answer  of  the 
four-voiced  choir.  Its  theme  is  carried  first  in 
low  duet  with  strings,  then  in  single  song  of 
violins,  again  in  duet,  and  now  in  full  hymnal 
chorus.  Though  brief,  this  is  the  climax,  and, 
dying  down,  it  leads  straight  to  the  rehearsal  of 
themes  as  at  first,  with  a  trill  instead  of  the 
pause.  The  big  chorus  and  the  whole  second 
melody  follow  in  full  beauty.  To  be  sure,  the 
ending  duet  with  cheerful  phrase  and  carolling 
wind  is  much  extended  in  length  and  volume, 
and  there  is  added  a  rollicking  dance  tune,  at 
the  end  of  which  the  first  theme  sings  softly  as 
possible  in  strings,  then  in  high  flute,  all  alone, 
answered  mockingly  by  a  playful  burst  of  the 
whole  band. 

Feelings,  scenes,  events  have  all  been  attempted 
in  music.     They  have  their  place,  certainly,  in 
136 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

art.  Has  not  each  kind  its  special  branch  ?  For 
scenes  there  is  painting ;  for  events  there  are 
words,  measured  or  unmeasured,  prose  or  verse. 
So  once  more,  from  a  different  point,  though  not, 
of  course,  by  a  strict  proof,  we  come  to  our  old 
truth :  that  music  is  specially  the  utterance  of 
feeling.  Other  propositions,  various  in  grade, 
are  all  related :  first  and  clearest,  that  feeling  is 
the  main  burden  of  music ;  whether  exclusive, 
is  another  question.  A  converse  of  the  first, 
that  by  no  means  follows  by  mere  deductive 
logic,  is  whether  music  is  the  clearest  utter- 
ance of  feeling.  That  it  is  not  its  only  lan- 
guage is  almost  absurd  even  to  mention.  In 
one  sense,  feeling  is  the  final  theme  of  every 
art.  A  scene  in  colors  or  threads,  an  action 
or  event  in  ballad  or  story,  to  arouse  the  least 
interest  must  spring  from  emotional  motive, 
however  unconscious,  beyond  the  mere  design 
of  exact  depiction  or  narration.  So,  to  tell  an 
event  without  interest,  however  faithfully ;  to  copy 
precisely  an  object  without  a  meaning,  implies 
no  art.  All  art  must  have  its  rise  in  feeling  and 
must  make  its  appeal  to  feeling.  When,  there- 
fore, we  speak  of  the  utterance  of  feeling  in  art 
as  against  scenes  or  events,  we  mean  merely  the 
137 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

direct  utterance  without  the  medium  of  outside 
objects,  of  nature  or  of  human  experience.  Here 
the  strength  of  music  seems  to  lie  in  freedom 
from  interfering  subjects,  finally  in  the  primary 
beauty  of  its  alphabet.  To  be  sure,  we  have 
seen  that  even  here  the  depiction  of  feeling 
ought  not  to  be  conscious ;  its  best  utterance 
is  a  kind  of  involuntary  betrayal,  where  the 
main  interest  is  on  the  musical  design  itself;  for 
indeed  all  work  comes  best  from  concentration, 
from  an  absolute  absorption.  For  the  poet  to 
trouble  about  the  emotional  hue  of  the  whole  is 
like  talking  with  one  eye  on  the  mirror ;  it  is  a 
hopeless  diversion,  a  dissipation  of  effort.  So,  as 
we  have  seen,  the  best  basis  of  titles  in  music  is, 
as  Schumann  discovered,  a  kind  of  postscript :  a 
final  touch  after  the  whole  untrammelled  course 
of  the  poem. 

But  this  does  not  argue  the  impossibility  de- 
liberately to  celebrate  special  subjects.  Indeed, 
it  is  not  for  the  hearer  to  inquire  when  the  title 
was  written,  before  or  after ;  all  must  be  tested 
by  the  work  itself.  But  a  natural  guess  may  be 
ventured  as  to  difficulty  and  danger  of  precon- 
ceived subject,  an  almost  fatal  cramping  of  its 
limitations.  Any  fetter  of  the  fancy  of  the 
138 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

musician  is  a  loss,  and  is  never  atoned  for  by  the 
mere  fidelity  to  a  title.  High  art  is  the  aim  ;  the 
name,  the  label,  is  nothing.  In  the  older  arts, 
especially  in  verse,  a  name  sprang  from  the  ne- 
cessity of  conditions,  because  there  must  be  an 
object.  Prose  and  verse  are  themselves  words ; 
there  a  title  is  not  derived  outside  of  the  art,  it  is 
part  of  the  tissue  of  the  work  itself.  Sculpture 
and  painting  stand  midway.  Names  are  not 
needed ;  but  as  they  dealt  always  in  outside  ob- 
jects, it  was  but  natural  to  a'dd  the  names  that 
belonged  to  them.  Most  striking  it  is  that  more 
and  more  in  modern  plastic  and  chromatic  art, 
of  chisel  and  of  brush,  wholly  fanciful  subjects  are 
vanishing,  actual  names  are  less  and  less  employed. 

In  music,  the  necessary  use  of  outside  objects 
does  not  exist ;  with  it  the  excuse,  the  reason  for 
labels  seems  equally  to  be  lost ;  they  seem  a 
mere  vanity  in  every  sense. 

In  Beethoven's  day  they  were  most  pardon- 
able ;  for  the  art  was  young,  lusty,  and  uncon- 
scious of  boundaries.  Nay,  the  experiment,  we 
may  say,  had  to  be  made.  If  the  greatest  failed, 
the  proof  is  the  more  complete.  The  very  con- 
centration of  masters  on  their  art  left  them  wit- 
less of  its  philosophic  theory.  It  was  left  for  a 
139 


BEETHOVEN'S  SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

Bach — highest  poet  of  man's  religious  sense — to 
write  a  crowing  cock  in  the  Passion  of  Christ. 

Therefore  in  the  "  Scene  at  the  Brook"  the 
words  will  be  taken  not  in  the  narrowest,  but  in 
the  broadest  sense.  '*  Scene"  must  mean  the 
feelings  aroused  by  a  visit  to  the  brook.  As  we 
shall  see  elsewhere,*  the  agreement  of  actual 
incident  and  its  subjective  impression  may  be  so 
close  that  the  musical  utterance  will  answer,  as 
does  positive  to  negative  of  a  picture.  As  com- 
posers do  not  split  hairs,  the  use  of  actual  story 
or  song  is  most  natural ;  their  emotional  meaning 
must,  whenever  possible,  be  implied. 

The  strings  below  are  murmuring  in  steady 
course,  the  horns  are  droning  in  sense  of  quiet 
woodland,  while  the  upper  violins  slowly  sing 
themselves  into  articulate  song  : 

Andante  molto  mosso. 


(The  accompaniment  doubled  in  cellos  and  basses) 

of  which  the  close  is  clearer  than  the  first  notes. 
The   lower  background  of  vague  strings  soon 

*  See  the  "  Lenore"  Symphony,  infra. 
140 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

grows  to  richer  waving  and  swaying ;  a  high  trill, 
sweetly  discordant,  is  added  in  the  branches  above, 
while  the  lower  woodwind  now  sing  the  melody. 
Throughout  is  the  special  charm  of  the  gentle 
clash  of  nature-sounds.  The  fool  (and  critic) 
might  say  in  his  heart:  a  vain  displacing  of  art  with 
brutal  touch  of  nature.  The  truth  is,  the  poet 
everywhere  merely  foresees  a  future  touch  of  pure 
art  which  to  the  lay  ear  has  ever  the  sense  of  clash, 
the  herald  of  new  experience.  (Of  course,  it 
adds  to  the  immediate  poetic  impression  of  the 
scene.)  It  is  all  easily  demonstrable  with  the 
numbers  of  exact  science,  and  were  worth  doing 
if  the  convictions  of  art  were  not  always  those 
of  intuition  rather  than  of  logic. 

The  song  soon  breaks  into  a  verse  of  more 
human  clearness,  first  in  the  high  strings : 


dolce. 

(Murmuring  cellos,  violins  and  violas.) 

now  the  cellos  below  and  clarinets  above  take  up 
the  strain,  while  a  like  pair,  violins  and  fagots, 
strike  into  the  midst  with  a  tune  of  the  same 

fibre,  aslant  the  skein  of  the  first  pair ;  and  now 
141 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH    SYMPHONY 

even  the  high  flutes  add  to  the  woof  of  song. 
Simply  it  ends  and  returns  to  the  first  murmur- 
ing tune  of  strings,  spreading  with  new  freedom 
of  tonal  moorings,  and  of  melodic  figure  more 
cheerful  of  mood,  ending  in  well-contented  ca- 
dence of  flute  in  a  neighboring  key : 


(Full  harmonies  in  strings,  wood  and  horns.) 

echoed  by  bassoons  below.  But  the  close  is  not 
real ;  a  new  scene  gently  appears  with  fagots 
starting  afresh  into  song,  while  now  higher  strings 
alone  are  murmuring : 

FAGOT  AND  STRINGS. 


(Twice  repeated,  the  cellos  strengthening  the  melody.) 
142 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

the  lower  are  soon  strengthening  the  fagots; 
the  singers  trip  into  a  jolly  measure.  The 
clarinets  come  crosswise  into  the  dance ;  others 
add  to  the  maze ;  but  the  end  is  in  united 
chorus.  The  verse  is  repeated  with  richer  inter- 
lacing of  lesser  phrases,  but  throughout  all  is  a 
rural  simplicity ;  the  complexity  is  not  of  con- 
scious thought,  it  is  the  sweet  whirl  of  wood- 
notes.  The  best  of  all  comes  at  the  end  of  the 
verse,  when  the  close  playfully  runs  into  another 
maze,  richer,  broader,  stronger  than  before,  on 
the  more  human,  tender  strain  of  the  end  of  the 
first  verse.  As  the  vein,  though  not  the  tune,  of 
the  first  theme  returns,  gentle  clashes  of  single 
notes  of  strings  (against  the  whole  stream  of 
song)  grow  bolder,  bold  even  for  to-day, — a  cen- 
tury later.  It  is  a  clear  case  of  the  weakness  of 
theoretic  law  when  once  the  mind  surmounts  it, 
mastering  the  intent,  in  open  transgression,  yet 
true  to  the  spirit  of  order.  It  is  in  a  way  a  mys- 
tery, but  it  shows  how  the  idea  is  all, — the  out- 
ward, visible  or  audible  effect  nothing.  The 
same  note,  written  in  ignorance  of  the  law 
and  therefore  in  false  intent,  would  be  false,  be- 
cause the  idea  were  false.  And  Beethoven's  idea 
seems  false  to  the  ear  that  is  rigidly  attuned  to 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

primitive  consonances,  refusing  heed  to  constant 
change,  to  ever-expanding  truth.  (So,  perhaps, 
nothing  is  true  in  the  sense  of  rigid  force  of 
written  dogma,  and  nothing  is  false  in  so  far  as 
it  may  find  somewhere  its  right  relation.)  From 
a  narrow  artistic  view,  it  remains  true  that  the 
value  does  not  lie  here  in  a  brutal  intrusion  of  a 
hostile  note  in  graphic  depiction  of  nature ;  the 
beauty  of  pure  art  must  be  there  and  thus  estab- 
lish the  truth. 

Coming  back  to  our  song,  the  sense  is  almost 
an  illusion  of  the  sweet  conflict  of  forest  sounds  of 
insects,  birds,  and  waters.  A  new  verse,  through 
all  of  the  old  tissue,  now  sings  out,  echoed 
higher  in  the  flutes.  To  be  sure,  like  the  sec- 
ond, it  merely  digresses  from  the  constant  strain 
of  the  original  song  which  now  proceeds  with 
more  readiness  and  variety  of  principal  and  lesser 
figures,  succeeded  again  by  the  maze  of  the 
speaking  strain  of  the  second  verse.  This  now 
spreads  through  stronger  climax  into  a  new 
tonal  scene  of  the  first.  By  a  similar  turn,  still 
a  new  scene  is  found  for  the  same  verse,  and  by 
still  further  subtle  changes  the  original  key  is 
reached,  where  the  verse  is  sung  complete  as  be- 
fore (after  the  second),  though  with  much  fuller 
144 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

acclaim  of  all  the  voices.  The  contented  ca- 
dence comes  now  in  the  original  key ;  but  it  is 
again  elusive  and  leads  as  before  into  the  third 
verse  with  a  dancing  clause.  Then  comes  again 
the  friendly  strain  of  the  second  and  a  final  hark- 
ing back  again  to  the  first. 

A  few  trills  in  high  wood  wind,  entering  one  after 
the  other,  may  disturb  the  philosophic  interpreta- 
tion. They  are  labelled  in  the  score :  the  flute's 
trill,  the  nightingale ;  the  call  of  the  oboe,  the  quail ; 
of  the  clarinet,  the  cuckoo.  They  are  answered  by 
one  more  verse  of  the  friendly  strain.  Musically 
they  do  not  change  our  enjoyment.  Beethoven's 
intent  undoubtedly,  it  is  more  and  more  evident, 
is  actually  to  depict  the  forest  scene.  However, 
it  is  wise  for  us,  even  in  defiance  of  his  conscious 
purpose,  to  get  the  best  of  the  music.  A  com- 
poser, we  dare  say,  is  not  a  good  authority  on 
the  value  of  his  own  music ;  the  musical  intent 
is  his,  and  there  he  is  authority ;  not  so  the  verbal 
label.  For  he  utters  his  authority  only  by  his 
music,  not  by  words.  Never  ask  a  composer 
what  he  means  by  a  piece  of  music,  nor  a  painter 
by  his  picture;  for  the  composer's  unconscious 
musical  mood  may  be  at  war  with  the  vanity  of 

his  desire  to  force  an  external  meaning  on  his 
i45 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH    SYMPHONY 

music.     And  here  we  may,  nay  we  must,  side 
with  the  true  though  latent  musical  purpose. 

In  the  third  movement,  "  Joyful  Gathering  of 
Peasants"  is  the  first  title.  Who  shall  say  *it  is 
the  outward  bustle,  the  mere  view,  the  external 
action,  rather  than  the  enjoyment  of  it,  the 
joviality  itself,  —  all  to  a  most  expressive  jolly 
jingle  in  quickstep  of  a  real  tuneful  jig  : 


Allegro. 


(Violins  doubled  below  in  violas.) 


The  answer  has  more  of  song  than  of  dance. 
Later  there  are  cross-figures  ;  then  all  dance  in 
unison,  followed  by  a  united  burst  almost  of  hymn, 
breaking  off  into  a  gay  waltzing  trip.  Lightly 
as  this  constant  skip  recedes  to  softest,  gentlest 
background,  suddenly  the  ingenuous  reed  most 
naively  blows  a  rustic  air  with  all  the  bucolic 
freedom  from  measured  limits  : 


OBOE. 


VIOLINS,    dur. 


146 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

Somehow  it  never  strays  far  from  the  soft  skip 
of  dancing  feet.  Again  and  again  comes  the 
simple  refrain,  though  never  too  often ;  and  now 
the  clarinet  breaks  in,  in  lower  pitch,  the  comic 
bassoon  even  intrudes  its  three  clumsy  notes,  and 
the  horns  still  lower.  Soon  others  are  caught 
humming,  even  the  lowest  bass,  when  abruptly 
strikes  a  rudest  jingle  in  rough  time  and  harsher 
accord,  in  a  primitive  sort  of  tone  common  to  all 
nations  in  barbaric  stage : 


In  tempo  d '  allegro. 


ff 

(Violins,  with  sustained  strings.) 

True,  a  later,  more  civilized  tune  sings  above  the 
receding  jig  and  through  a  fine  burst  leads  first 
to  the  beginning,  then  to  a  final  verse  of  the  first 
tune,  whence  again  the  united  song  breaks  into 
the  tripping  rustic  waltz,  to  be  harshly  disturbed 
by — u  Rain  and  Storm." 

Above  the  faint  rumble  of  basses  comes  the 
light  patter  of  a  sprinkling  verse  in  the  second, 
and  larger  drops  in  the  first  violins ;  very  soon 
The  full  storm  is  on,  in  furious  tempest  on  the 
whole  horizon  of  tone,  with  rough  stride  of  de- 
147 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

scending  violins,  the  winds  driving  big  things, 
tumbling  in  heavy  fall.  Now  thunder  growls 
from  afar ;  now  strikes  the  crash  ;  now  again ; 
now  more  peals  in  quick  suit ;  then  the  former 
patter  leads  to  a  more  furious  storm  than  before. 

Two  things  are  true :  first,  we  must  never 
lose  the  possible  sense  of  mere  subjective  im- 
pression, not  of  actually  described  event.  The 
correspondence  will  become  more  and  more  close 
and  exact  as  the  outward  titles  increase  in  num- 
ber. Under  one  general  title  the  fancy  and 
feeling  may  roam  with  great,  though  not  with 
unfettered  freedom.  But  here  is  a  second  truth  : 
as  the  labels  multiply  comes  the  perplexing 
need  of  still  more.  We  are  driven  to  ask 
what  is  this  and  that  and  even  every  least  note. 
Here  is  the  tremendous  increasing  danger  of  titles. 
They  are  fearful  tyrants  and  hold  the  imagina- 
tion bound. 

Even  if  the  musician  means  to  give  but 
touches  here  and  there  of  realism,  yet  the  whole 
is  transformed  from  free  feeling  to  a  graphic 
account.  The  question  of  objective  and  subjec- 
tive, action  or  impression,  is  soon  the  splitting  of 
hairs, — a  matter  of  technical  phrase.  We  cannot 
get  away  from  the  multiplicity  of  detail.  Now 
148 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

this  is  mere  negative.  Think  of  the  loss  of  all 
we  have  seen  and  gained  in  the  free  musical  dis- 
cussion of  lyric  melodies  soaring  to  utmost 
ranges  of  structural  height  without  the  least 
fear  of.  transcending  imposed  barriers,  and  then 
rearing  the  greatest  possible  art  from  the  seed  of 
the  melodies  and  the  soil  of  the  poet's  mood. 
And  the  real  meaning,  though  we  cannot  define 
it  in  common  words,  is  it  not  far  nobler  than 
theatrical  touch  of  rain  and  thunder"?  Think 
of  the  value  and  meaning  to  the  world,  if  only 
during  a  single  year,  of  Beethoven's  Fifth 
Symphony,  which  is  all  untitled. 

The  thunder  and  storm  all  crash  together; 
heavy  bolts  descend  through  the  blinding  rain 
and  wind.  Lightning  still  flashes  throughout. 
Now  the  tempest  retreats ;  low  thuds  of  pelting 
rain  strike  more  gently ;  here  and  there  a  loud 
bolt  recurs.  As  the  last  growls  recede,  the 
higher  strings  and  clarinet  sound  a  few  notes  of 
hymnal  song,  which  seem  the  first  touches  of 
pure  untrained  feeling.  But  it  glides  immediately 
into  the  "  Shepherd's  Song," — "  Glad  and  Grate- 
ful Feelings  After  the  Storm." 

We  have  feelings  again  ;  the  worst  is  over. 

The  structure  of  song  form  is  just  like  lyric 
149 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 


poem,  where  first  verse  recurs  in  refrain.  Clari- 
nets and  horn  strike  the  pitch  in  simple  rhythmic 
chord,  violins  begin  the  song  itself: 

(Violins,  with  chords  in  woodwind  and  violas.) 
Pizzicato.  BASSES. 


*-•   -*• 


f)  dolce. 


of  simplest  ancient  kind ;  rehearsing  to  make 
doubly  sure,  that  all  may  presently  join  in  full 
chorus,  where  clarinets,  horns,  and  low  strings 
take  the  air,  the  rest  holding  long  tones  in  the 
chord  or  keeping  mere  time  with  skipping  step. 
Almost  as  good  and  as  joyous  is  the  little  after- 
strain  : 

VIOLINS,    ten. 


(Chords  in  wood.) 

(Obligato  accompaniment  in  lower  strings.) 

first  in  lower  strings,  answered  by  the  higher. 
From  out  of  this,  as  one  subject  of  talk  leads  to 
the  next,  flows  another  separate  verse  of  the  song 
in  neighboring  pitch  of  tone,  in  mere  mocking 
150 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

phrase,  like  things  of  the  tree,  ever  higher  in  the 
branches,  extending  finally  into  an  after-phrase 
almost  finer  than  the  main,  and  resting  in  the  new 
home  of  tone,  whence  the  quick  return  to  the 
old  leads  back  to  the  first  verse  with  playful  skip 
of  lower  figure.  Hence  quickly  we  turn  in  an- 
other direction  to  a  third  verse  in  another  quarter 
of  tonal  scene.  Broader  swings  the  double  air, 
broken  ever  by  mischievous  intrusion  of  chorus. 
Now  we  are  carried  into  the  freest  phase,  leaving 
the  staid  lines  of  rustic  song  playing  about  the 
end  of  the  tunes,  darting  in  strange  colors  of 
tone.  Mostly  the  basses  are  humming  in  rough 
semblance  of  the  main  verse  a  tune  of  their  own, 
while  high  strings  are  coursing  furiously  in  rural 
bacchanale;  but  soon  they  all  return  to  the 
simpler  song,  first  of  the  original  verse,  though 
with  whimsical  changes,  the  strings  still  coursing 
lightly, — once  more  repeated  with  fullest  chorus 
and  followed  by  after-phrase  and  again  by  the 
second  verse  and  its  own  postscript.  And  now  a 
light  carolling  brings  us  to  a  formal  round  where 
our  rustics  try  their  skill,  as  one  voice  enters  all 
alone,  later  a  second  in  separate  figure,  the  rest 
merely  keeping  time  with  hands  and  feet.  The 
climax  through  another  carolling  strain  leads  to 


BEETHOVEN'S   SIXTH   SYMPHONY 

a  feat  of  greater  difficulty  and  complexity,  where 
two  separate  groups  are  trying  separate  manoeu- 
vres, crowned  by  a  tumult  of  loudest  festivity. 

Right  at  the  close  the  old  song  sounds  as  de- 
vout hymn,  all  free  of  worldly  dance,  chanting 
its  thanksgiving  clearer  than  words : 

STRINGS. 


It  almost  seems  as  if  this  were  no  longer  our 
Shepherd's  Song;  as  if,  like  the  touch  in  the 
last  movement,  we  had  escaped  from  the  title,  we 
heard  the  poet's  own  finer  thought  of  it  all,  his 
own  purer  note  of  thanksgiving. 
152 


VII 

BEETHOVEN'S    NINTH 
(CHORAL)   SYMPHONY 

THE    FINAL   NEED    OF    WORDS 

^  I  ^HE  Ninth  Symphony  brings  us  to  a  ques- 
JL  tion  at  once  most  simple  and  most  pro- 
found. What  is  more  natural  than  the  gradual 
striving  for  definite  utterance  of  highest  feeling, 
like  the  child  breaking  from  the  cooing  rhythm 
of  the  cradling  nurse  ?  On  the  other  hand,  does 
this  burst  into  words  actually  bring  the  definite- 
ness  striven  for1?  Does  it  crown  the  insufficient 
utterance  of  the  wordless  song  of  the  earlier 
symphony  ?  To  lapse  for  a  moment  from  our 
exclusive  view  of  the  work  itself,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  the  fact  that  Beethoven  at  the  end  of 
his  last  Symphony  broke  into  words,  must  be  a 
doughty  argument  for  those  who  contend  for  the 
greater  definiteness  of  verbal  utterance  in  music. 
But  we  must  not  forget  that  while  Beethoven 
may  reach  the  greatest  heights  as  a  master,  he 
was  not  infallible  as  theorist  on  the  nature  of 
his  art.  He  found  the  latter  only  by  experiments, 
'S3 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 

which  were  often  failures,  which  we  must  test  by 
our  own  intuition,  which  Beethoven  himself 
would  not  have  us  accept  in  blind  confidence  in 
himself. 

The  last  great  work  of  big  dimensions  de- 
signed by  Beethoven  begins  very  freely,  in  vehe- 
ment rhythmic  strum : 


Allegretto  ma  non  troppo. 
Un  poco  maestoso. 


VIOLINS. 


(Strings  doubled  below.) 

(The  chord  sustained  in  horns.) 


that  foreshadows  rather  than  utters,  soon  breaking 
in  loudest  unison  into  a  simple  harmonic  figure 
that  is  too  frugal  for  melody : 


TUTTI. 


( Doubled  in  three  octaves  below 
and  in  piccolo  above.) 


Indeed  it  is  all  introduction,  very  like  recitatives 
heralding  the  aria.  At  times  it  approaches  the 
tune : 

'54 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 


WOODWIND. 


(Doubled  above  and  in 
two  octaves  below.) 


but  soon  we  wonder  whether  the  whole  move- 
ment is  not  introduction.  Often  even  all  three 
movements  seem  prelude  to  the  last.  But  pres- 
ently a  clearer  phrase  emerges : 


(Flutes  in  8ve  of  higher  voice. 
WOODWIND. 


(Doubled  below.) 

with  antiphonal  answer,  and  this  but  precedes  a 
still  fuller  melody,  though  it  is  disguised  by  dis- 
tribution among  several  voices  : 


(Tune  in  woodwind.) 


(Strings  doubled  in  two  Sves  below.) 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 


There  is  an  amount  of  noisy  climax  that  does 
seem  out  of  proportion  to  the  modest  tune ;  but 
it  is  all  part  of  the  solemnly  festive  humor  that 
foretokens  high  rites.  Out  of  this  very  burst  of 
cadence  steals  a  bit  that  we  nearly  lose,  though 
it  is  of  clearest  ore.  On  the  fillip  of  the  previ- 
ous clash : 


3333 


(Augmented  in  full  orchestra.) 


now  rung  softly  far  down  in  basses,  a  kind  of 
motto  hovers  high  in  strings  and  wood  merely 
for  the  length  of  a  breath,  in  four  sustained  notes  : 


VIOLINS. 


(Low  strings  with  pizz.  basses.) 
156 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

-4 


OBOE. 


But  it  is  as  integral  as  any  fragment  in  this  in- 
choate, chaotic,  inconsequent  prelude,  and  pres- 
ently another  melodic  snatch  sings  in  softest 
wood  and  strings,  in  outline  like  the  reverse  of 
the  main  melody : 


(Tune  always  in  varying  8ve  pairs  of  mixed  woodwind 
and  strings.) 


Lower  strings,  tripping  rhythm  in  drums. 
157 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 


Indeed,  the  whole  is  largely  compact  in  mosaic 
of  brilliant  strains,  all  striving  for  dominance, 
none  with  clear  sovereignty.  After  a  still  more 
furious  climax,  broken  but  heightened  by  mo- 
mentary lulls,  we  enter  again  the  stirring  strum 
of  the  beginning, — a  shadowy  discussion  of  very 
shadowy  subjects,  where  that  earliest  phrase  in 
simplest  harmony  assumes  more  dignity : 


Other  thoughts,  too,  are  crowding  in  for  the  lead, 
Here  is  one  in  cradling  motion,  which  springs 
from  an  earlier  motive : 

WOODWIND. 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 

The  main  frugal  theme  seems  the  very  type  of 
vague  striving.  So  the  whole  has  more  and 
more  of  fragmental  effect ;  the  striving  alone  is 
definite ;  the  vagueness  alone  is  clear ;  each 
thought  is  rejected  for  the  next. 

Now,  beautifully  blended  of  the  cradling  phrase 
and  the  cadence  of  the  big  theme,  springs  a  verse 
that  sings  its  larger  career  first  in  resounding  bass 
of  fagots  and  strings,  with  the  cradling  phrase 
always  somewhere  about  in  other  voices  than 
the  leaders.  Now  the  tune  is  in  high  flutes 
and  in  violins ;  lower  strings  are  rocking  to  the 
rhythm ;  now  tune  and  phrase  are  confused  in 
high  strings  and  wood ;  finally,  the  melody 
remains  on  high  and  the  lesser  phrase  sinks 
to  a  perfect  bass  in  strings  where,  by  a  sort 
of  verification,  the  whole  is  crowned  to  a  glori- 
ous conclusion,  swinging  along  in  full  discussion, 
which  never  loses  the  rhythm  in  the  dispute. 
When  it  seems  to  have  died  away,  we  are  in  a 
sort  of  madrigal  of  responsive  refrains  on  the 
cradling  phrase,  with  more  song  and  swing  and 
sweetness  and  less  dispute  than  before,  whence  we 
return  to  the  main  melody  (not  the  first  theme) 
in  the  strings.  But,  instead  of  the  noisy  tem- 
pest, the  tune  runs  smoothly :  first  above,  an- 
159 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

swered  below ;  then  reversed ;  third,  with  new 
answer  in  the  midst :  and,  finally,  with  redoubled 
answer  dancing  all  above,  drowning  the  song 
itself  with  very  gayety.  From  out  of  the  festive 
orgy  the  ominous  strum  of  the  beginning  has 
suddenly  driven  the  other  figures. 

It  is  wonderful,  the  magic  of  musical  discus- 
sion. Is  it  the  mere  association  of  external  sim- 
ilarity of  phrases,  hurled  back  and  forth, — one 
view ;  or  is  it  the  marching  in  architectural  array 
in  magnificently  prodigal  profusion  of  ordered 
fragments,  running  by  new  dimension  to  massive 
structure  ? 

Discussion  shows  the  humble  dignity  of  the 
separate  lyric  strain  ;  it  confirms  the  relevancy  of 
the  whole  by  the  text  and  fibre  of  the  motive, 
which  is  now  merged  into  the  infinite  importance 
of  the  organic  structure.  The  discussion  from 
different  melodic  ends,  fitting  together,  verifies  and 
convinces  far  beyond  the  strongest  force  of  man's 
logical  proof.  It  is  thus  that  poems  and  other 
forms  of  art  stay  longer  than  laws  and  institu- 
tions, which  seem  hedged  in  and  buttressed  by 
all  the  external  means  in  the  world.  An  unseen 
melody,  a  symphony  that  merely  floats  in  the 
air,  has  the  more  powerful  existence  and  perma- 

160 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

nence  because  it  is  fortified  by  truth, — it  is  truth 
itself. 

And  now  comes  the  original  suite  of  strains, 
save  there  is  an  angrier  dispute  of  the  rude  phrases 
of  the  beginning,  clashing  in  contrary  stride, 
marching  in  prouder  step,  with  broader  swing, 
with  redoubled  countermarching  and  cadence. 
Heralded  as  before,  the  main  melody  is  again 
divided  among  its  choir  of  voices,  followed  by 
the  noisy  tumult.  Once  more  the  gentle  motto 
in  four  long  notes,  the  bustling  ascent,  the 
swinging  third  melody  that  came  before  in 
the  wake  of  the  motto,  the  big  climax.  Instead 
of  rest  there  is  new  discussion,  still  in  the 
vague  humor,  striving  for  ever  better,  newer  ex- 
pression, not  content  with  the  theme  at  hand. 
The  original  subject  enters  softly  for  the  first 
time,  and  is  answered  in  more  rational  fashion, 
other  voices  chiming  in  in  independent  time. 
Then  follows  the  climax,  in  earlier  vein,  of  cross- 
ing phrases,  which  has  something  of  mystic  brood- 
•  ing.  Through  another  lusty  fanfare  it  leads  to 
one  of  the  best  moments.  That  little  blended 
tune  of  cradling  phrase  and  cadence  of  first  sub- 
ject enter  softly  in  major  in  the  horns,  .while 
oboes  and  fagots  sweetly  interfere  with  the  tune. 

ii  161 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 


(Sustained  8ves  of  A  in  strings.) 
(Sec  page  1 6 1, -line  25.) 

The  whole  is  colored  by  a  more  joyous  hue, 
though  once  again  enters  the  dispute  of  con- 
trary stride.  So  the  whole  is  a  paradox  in  that 
the  main  theme  and  phase  are  lesser,  in  inverse 
proportion  to  official  rank ;  and  the  best  is  in 
obscurest  corners, — mere  after-thoughts,  not  of 
the  main  design  or  text,  yet  betraying,  through 
the  pain  of  striving,  a  secret  joyousness  of  humor. 
It  is  of  course  but  a  type  of  life,  where  the  best 
often  comes  least  awaited  in  humblest  places. 

So,  near  the  very  end  comes  another  episode 
full  of  resonant  charm,  as  the  basses  march 
gently  to  the  active  pace  of  the  previous  blended 
melody,  and  the  horns  and  wood  strike  a  call 
and  trilling  cadence,  gradually  infecting  most  ot 
the  band,  ending  finally  in  triumphant  close  of 
original  theme. 

Scherzo.      The  first    canto  has  not    ascended 

162 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

OBOES  AND  CLARINETS. 

tr.\ 


PP 

(Lower  strings  and  fagots,) 

(See  page  162,  line  15.) 

the  heights  of  clear  joy ;  the  time  for  the 
calm  lyric  utterance  has  not  come ;  the  An- 
dante must  be  deferred.  Much  clearer  in  tune 
than  the  Allegro,  bright  in  tripping  gait,  the 
Scherzo  is  yet  strongly  intermixed  with  a  mystic 
vein,  a  little  like  a  dance  of  will-o'-the-wisps.  It 
begins  a  dazzling  filigree  of  five-voiced  fugue  on 
the  theme  : 

Molto  vivace.  .       .  .      . 

^       PP  STRINGS.  £   f 

which,  most  unusually,  against  its  very  nature  is 
in  the  same  tonal  color  (in  the  same  key)  with 
the  preceding  movement, — another  sign  of  in- 
sufficiency, of  an  introductory  function.  It  is  this 
163 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

reason,  not  technical  of  the  schools,  but  poetic 
and  therefore  real.  The  departure  to  new  tonal 
scene  can  only  come  when  the  whole  structure — 
purpose,  mood,  and  all — has  been  achieved,  when 
the  earlier  striving  has  been  stilled  to  utmost 
satisfaction.  There  is  no  other  instance  in  a 
Beethoven  symphony  of  identical  tonal  resi- 
dence of  the  first  two  movements. 

First  tripping  along  in  strings,  with  harmonies 
in  the  wood,  the  theme,  no  longer  a  fugue, 
plunges  into  full  chorus  in  pure  free  dance  with 
flowing  answer.  One  continuous  romp  it  seems 
— to  the  Trio.  Still,  one  can  distinguish,  to  the 
constant  trip  in  the  strings,  the  wood  playing 
softly  a  slow  hymn-like  phrase  : 


(Long  notes  in  woodwind  ;  short  notes  in  strings.) 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

to  which  the  whole  chorus  (all  the  brass  but 
horns  are  omitted  throughout)  shout  a  tumultu- 
ous refrain  : 

(Tune  doubled  above  and  below  in  woodwind.) 

~"^~  tr     ~Tr  Tr  ~rr 


(Rhythmic  trip  doubled  above  and  below  in  strings  ) 
(Added  horns.) 

The  trip  ever  continues  in  the  strings,  soon 
prevails  in  playful  repartee  with  the  wood,  and 
rushes  through  alternate  gentle  and  noisy  lines 
to  a  close.  Whence  first  a  complete  repeti- 
tion, then  a  discussion  of  the  tripping  motive, 
ever  with  mocking  exchange  between  the  choirs 
with  playful  pauses,  climbing  all  the  boughs  of 
the  tonal  tree.  Here  is  a  new  trick  ;  the  fugue 
has  the  voices  dancing  in,  every  three  measures 
instead  of  four  ;  so  there  is  a  double  rhythm  of 
dance,  little  and  big,  checking  the  great  irresisti- 
ble pace  which  must  soon  reappear  when  the 
voices  restore  the  balance  by  entering,  not  on  the 
fourth  but  on  each  successive  measure.  Finally, 
they  let  out  their  suppressed  spirits  and  pace  in 
pure  repeated  step,  then  burst  once  more  into 

the  former  course  of  dance  tunes  with  the  same 
165 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

triumphant  close.     Thence  the  whole  discussion 
and  refrain  are  rehearsed. 

In  complete  transformation  of  scene  and 
rhythm  the  Trio  sounds  a  pious  hymn  in  organ 
tones  of  the  wood  : 

OBOES  AND  CLARINETS. 
Presto. 


Playful,  perhaps,  is  the  first  note  of  solemn  lay 
that  is  soon  to  reign, — a  touch  of  eternal  fate, 
with  all  simplicity  and  even  humor.  Hymn-like, 
the  second  seems  a  mere  varied  verse  of  the  first, 
where  with  dazing  art  the  voices  are  reversed  again 
and  again,  and  the  themes  to  boot : 

1 66 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 


fc^ 

l  : 

j^  

LfcdUJ 

j_L  J  J 

-^  J-f-f- 

^-^  £      *^  ^ 

—  »  ,  

so  that  the  pervading  sense  of  the  thought  re- 
mains without  a  single  actual  repeated  strain,  all 
in  even  monkish  measure,  though  the  quicker 
second  pause  still  reminds  us  of  the  old  fun. 
Now  the  horns  below  have  the  tune,  and  the  high 
strings  sing  the  former  bass  reversed,  sounding 
even  more  fitting  than  at  first ;  and  so  tunes  and 
countertunes  flow  along  far  up  and  down  with- 
out reck  which  is  bass  or  air.  An  ascending  play 
on  the  quick  measure  leads  to  the  hymn  in  full 
canonicals,  whence  most  of  the  Trio  is  repeated. 

In  still  greater  array  the  hymn  is  borne  to  festive 

167 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

close  and  the  impish  tune  of  the  fugal  scherzo 
returns.  In  big  equipment  the  course  of  the 
gay  dance  is  run  through  to  heart's  satisfaction, 
and  even  a  line  of  the  hymn  is  added  with 
almost  mocking  effect.  But  we  fear  there  is  no 
proving  of  heresy  on  musical  evidence. 

Adagio  molto  e  cantabile.  The  mood  is  purely 
lyric  and  the  placid  flow  of  tones  has  a  noble  sim- 
plicity : 

Adagio  molto  e  cantabile. 


From  the  second  line  there  is  a  special  sense, 
first  of  constant  sequence,  as  in  story ;  also  there 


1 68 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

is  an  informality  of  whispered  echoes  or  re- 
frains, breaking  the  stately  flow  of  regular  period. 
While  the  song  begins  in  many  voices,  it  breaks 
soon  into  passionate  cadence  of  one  prevailing 
soprano : 


Finally  the  old  fragmental,  tentative  air  is  soon 
felt  as  the  pace  of  song  halts,  and  presently 
changes  from  even  four  to  triple  rhythm  into  a 
verse  beginning  very  like  a  lullaby : 


Andante  moderate. 


STRINGS. 


169 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 

The  quality  of  the  whole  lies  less  in  the  mel- 
odies, but  just  in  this  discontent,  moving  with 
restless  whim,  scarce  touching  one  beautiful,  ex- 
pressive strain  before  leaving  it  for  another.  After 
the  second,  the  first  returns  much  disguised  in 
fitful  figure  of  strings,  though  the  clear  tune  is 
mostly  seen  in  clarinets.  As  the  lullaby  re-enters 
in  fuller  numbers,  it  seems,  as  it  were,  joy  cradled 
in  extreme  ecstasy,  before  abandon  of  outbreak. 
In  the  first  there  is  more  of  calm,  steady  as- 
surance of  quiet  content,  though  with  strong- 
rising  emotion  and  a  stormy  burst  at  the  end. 
Indeed,  they  seem  different  phases  almost  of  joy- 
ous suppression  instead  of  utterance. 

The  next  singing  of  the  first  verse  is  in  dulcet 
fugue  on  the  first  four  notes,  between  clarinet 
and  horn,  later  between  flute  and  fagot  on  a  part 
of  the  theme,  all  in  dim  changing  tonal  light 
and  halting  figure  of  melody.  But  the  twilight 
soon  breaks  into  the  clear  first  color  and  outline 
of  the  main  tune  in  the  wood,  enriched  by  thread 
of  strings  coursing  all  about  the  song.  But  there 
is  ever  the  conversing  air,  the  quaint  echoing  re- 
frain stopping  the  strict  measure,  the  listlessness 
chafing  against  the  bonds  of  rhythm,  as  when 
the  melody  is  suddenly  broken  by  trumpet  blasts, 


170 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 

which  in  turn  are  quickly  hushed  by  timid  whis- 
pered snatches,  the  fugue  introducing  the  song  as 
before.  Again  the  trumpet  blows,  the  scene  and 
rhythm  change  for  the  moment,  to  return  to  the 
quiet  flow  of  the  placid  song.  Altogether,  we 
do  not  find,  as  elsewhere,  a  clear  quality.  There 
are  content  and  discontent,  quiet  delight  and 
vague,  almost  mournful  striving,  and  passionate 
outburst.  We  must  be  content  with  discontent. 
The  sense,  again,  is  clearly  the  very  doubt  of 
teeling,  the  uncertainty  of  its  incomplete  utter- 
ance; though  the  melody  closes  formally,  it  is 
still  tentative. 

Presto.  In  unrhythmic  fanfare,  in  the  escape 
from  rhythm,  we  feel  afresh  the  old  disquiet ; 
the  phrase  of  recitative  in  formless  figure  shows 
a  still  stronger  impulse  towards  new  definite- 
ness.  The  repeated  fanfare  leads  to  the  stirring 
thrum  that  began  the  Symphony  as  a  motto, 
— as  a  kind  of  password.  Here  it  accents  the 
tension  for  a  new  articulation.  Again  the  reci- 
tative ;  now  a  strain  of  the  dancing  scherzo.  Is 
it  to  return  in  search  of  the  true  word  there  ;  or  is 
it  a  general  view,  a  comparison  of  uttered  ideas ; 
or  the  mere  sense,  in  this  disjointed  song,  of  com- 
parison as  the  first  basis  of  reasoning,  of  discus- 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 

sion  ?  Pure  discussion,  disputation,  is  unrhyth- 
mic.  A  new  phrase,  as  of  spoken  words,  marks 
further  casting  off  of  the  bonds  of  measured 
melody ;  the  quick  changing  of  rhythm  shows 
the  striving  for  verbal  definiteness  in  the  restless 
harking  back  and  forth  to  this  idea  and  that. 
Away  with  the  fetters  of  mere  rhythm  to  things, 
exact  ideas,  free  of  the  thrall  of  beauty's  laws ! 
Tear  the  charming  scales  from  the  eyes  !  So  in 
review  passes  again  the  Adagio  theme.  Now  a 
more  thoughtful,  promising  solo  phrase.  At  last 
a  fleeting  glimpse  of  a  new  song ;  back  again  to 
the  thoughtful  herald  phrase :  now  at  last  the  full 
course  of  the  final  song : 

Allegro  assai.  I  ist  end^g.  1 2dend'g.  I 


cress.  P 

in  basses  alone    without  words ;  the    refrain    in 
stately  array  of  full-voiced,  fugue-like  polyphony, 


172 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 

finally  in  fervent  simple  setting  of  hymning 
chorus,  ending,  however,  with  full  abandon  of 
phrases  of  the  song,  flowing  to  a  free  climax. 

But  this  is  a  mere  foretaste,  a  mere  fore- 
shadowing; for,  once  again  the  restless  Presto 
breaks  into  the  rhythmic  course,  ending  with  the 
first  actual  words  sung  on  formless  phrase  of  reci- 
tative,— words  not  of  poet:  "Not  these  tones, 
friends ;  rather  let  us  strike  a  more  pleasing  and 
joyous  strain."  The  words  are  not  inspired; 
they  are  like  a  stage-direction,  breaking  into  the 
text  of  the  play ;  they  are  part  of  the  scheme 
that  renounces  all  previous  attempts.  Throwing 
off  compunction  and  hesitation,  the  standards  are 
flung  aside ;  there  is  open  desertion  to  the  cause 
of  verbal  song.  The  resources  of  pure  tones  are 
abandoned  for  words:  Schiller's  "Ode  to  Joy," 
set  to  the  new-found  tune. 

"J°y»  tnou  spark  of  Heaven  descended, 

Daughter  of  Elysian  line, 
Drunk  with  ecstasy  we  enter, 
Goddess  fair,  thy  sacred  shrine. 

"By  thy  magic  charm  is  healed 

Despot  Fashion's  cruel  pain  ; 

All  mankind  are  clasped  as  brothers 

Under  thy  bewitching  reign. 

173 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

"  Wno  hath  won  the  highest  venture, 

True  friend's  chosen  friend  to  be  ; 
Who  hath  gained  a  noble  woman, 
Let  him  join  our  jubilee, — 

"  Nay,  whoe'er  upon  this  planet 
Count  a  single  soul  his  own. 
And  who  may  not,  let  him,  grieving, 
Steal  away  and  weep  alone. 

"  Heavenly  Joy  all  earthly  creatures 

Drink,  of  Nature's  fountain  source, 
Good  and  evil  all  pursuing 

Joy  o'er  a  rose-scented  course. 

"  Wine  and  kisses  Joy  hath  given, 

And  a  proven  Friend  in  death. 
And  the  worm  hath  share  in  pleasure  ; 
Cherub  before  God  draws  breath. 

"Joyous  as  the  suns  are  flying 

Through  the  heaven's  vasty  sphere, 
Joyous  as  a  hero  conqu'ring, 
Brothers,  run  your  high  career  ! 

"  Be  embraced,  millions  all  ; 

This  kiss  for  the  world  is  meant  ! 
Brothers,  o'er  the  starry  tent 
Is  a  Father's  kindly  thrall. 
174 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 

"  Ye  lie  prostrate,  myriads  all. 

Reck'st  thou  thy  Creator,  world  ? 
Seek  Him  o'er  the  sky  unfurl'd  ! 
Brothers,  o'er  the  sky  unfurl'd 
Is  a  loving  Father's  thrall." 

There  is  here  no  homogeneous  art;  neither 
fully  developed  song  nor  instrumental  form, — 
neither  cantata  nor  sonata.  There  is  a  straining 
of  the  one  art  to  find  expression  beyond  its 
bounds  in  the  language  of  another.  The  intent 
seems  very  clearly  to  be  a  confession  of  weak- 
ness of  mere  instruments,  and  on  highest  au- 
thority. Think  of  the  argument :  on  the  side 
of  verbal  song  the  great  Bach  masterpieces, 
and  Beethoven's  final  word  of  concession.  And 
yet  all  this  weighs  nothing  against  the  proof  of 
the  music  itself.  Not  what  it  wishes  to  say, 
this  Ninth  Symphony,  what  it  wants  to  express 
or  to  have  expressed,  not  the  conscious  intent  of 
the  poet,  is  our  question,  but  simply  and  only : 
What  does  it  express  by  the  force  and  beauty  of 
pure  art"?  The  words,  borrowed  from  another 
poet,  announce  Joy  very  clearly :  they  might  as 
clearly  announce  any  other  idea  or  emotion. 
The  words  are  no  more  convincing  as  to  the 
sense  of  the  music  than  a  clumsy  boy's  label  of 
175 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

a  drawing.     The  prelude  of  the  song  seems  the- 
atrical,— a  preconceived  idea,  imagined  in  philos- 
ophy and  forced  upon  musical  utterance,  lacking 
the  wholeness  of  a  work  of  art.     It  is,  probably, 
spontaneously  and    sincerely  tentative.     But  all 
attempts  in  art  are  not  convincing  merely  be- 
cause they  are  beautiful  in  separate  parts.     It  is 
not  impossible,  nor  infrequent,  in  the  later  career 
of  the  poet,  for  mystic  philosophy  to  halt  and 
choke  pure  fancy.     We  come  back  to  the  true 
basis  of  art,  which  is  independent  of  announced 
purpose,  works  not  with  labels,  is  ever  uncon- 
scious of  its  verbal  meaning.     It  is  quite  possi- 
ble for  Beethoven  to  say  :  For  once  I  wish  to 
reinforce   my  inarticulate  cries  with  spoken,  in- 
disputable words  of  verbal  poet.     It  is  an  admis- 
sion, if  you  will,  of  his  own  temporary  lack  of 
power,  not  of  his  art;  it  is  really  a  reinforcement, 
a  repetition  in  different  terms,  not  one  complete 
whole.     Nor  is    it   strange  that  the  wonderful 
words  of  Schiller  should  occur  to  the  modest  com- 
poser as  tempting  crown  to  his  symphony :  the 
true  composer  never  knows  the  full  dignity  and 
force  of  his  work.     Again,  the  composer's  ideas 
of  the  nature  of  his  art  are  of  no  value ;  the 
involuntary  spirit  of  his  work  alone  moves  us. 
176 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 

There  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why  Beethoven 
should  not  wish  to  invoke  Schiller's  Ode  in  a 
setting.  There  is  no  reason  in  the  world  to  hold 
his  act  as  invoking  the  assistance  of  poetry  to 
music  in  general.  The  fact  that  it  is  his  last  sym- 
phony has  no  weight  at  all,  even  if  he  knew  it 
was  to  be  his  last.  There  is,  therefore,  no  reason 
in  denouncing  Beethoven's  intent,  in  reading  into 
it  a  confession  of  weakness  of  the  whole  of  music ; 
although  it  cannot  be  said  too  often  that  the 
greatest  master's  ideas  on  the  theory  of  his  art 
are  of  small  value,  that  he  is  very  likely  to  go 
astray  in  vain  experiments,  as  did  Bach.  The 
fact  that  the  Ninth  Symphony  did  not  inspire  a 
train  of  successors  is  of  the  highest  import  to  our 
view.  The  only  way  the  artist,  after  all,  learns 
the  nature  and  limitations  of  his  art  is  by  experi- 
ment,— merely  to  a  small,  preliminary  extent  by 
a  priori  theory.  A  Paradise  Lost  must  have  its 
Paradise  Regained.  Almost  every  success  of  a 
writer  must  be  matched  by  a  failure  ;  even  Shake- 
speare has  his  worthless  moments,  his  unworthy 
designs ;  even  Homer  nods.  The  poet  is  to  be 
measured  by  his  best,  not  by  a  cool  estimate  of 
average.  In  Schubert  we  have  masses  of  ore  to 
a  grain  of  gold.  There  is  a  Battle  Symphony 
«  177 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 

of  Beethoven  that  never  reaches  an  audience, 
though  the  score  be  at  hand.  Haendel's  wonder- 
ful melodies  are  not  enough,  even  in  the  land  of 
his  special  worship,  to  revive  the  ghosts  of  his 
ancient  operas,  though  his  oratorios  hold  the  stage 
of  sacred  drama  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  world. 
There  is  absolutely  nothing  in  the  authority  of 
the  poet  as  to  theory.  It  would  be  very  con- 
venient, indeed,  if  we  had  a  text-book  from  Bee- 
thoven, like  sacred  articles  of  creed,  telling  us 
just  what  is  good  and  right,  what  is  to  be  liked, 
and  what  must  not  be  enjoyed.  Convenient  it 
would  be,  but  fatal  to  true  art.  The  essence  of 
enjoyment  is  ever  the  sense  of  discovery  by  per- 
sonal discrimination.  The  sure  knowledge  that 
it  is  good  takes  away  the  true  edge  of  delight 
and  prompts  contrariety.  True  enjoyment,  like 
true  creation,  can  never  be  gained  by  pure  imi- 
tation. We  must,  therefore,  find  for  ourselves 
as  listeners  the  real  value  of  every  work,  even  of 
a  Beethoven,  taking  nothing  for  granted  from 
the  halo  of  master  or  the  tradition  of  past  audi- 
ences. Indeed,  the  long  run  of  public  judg- 
ment, counted  through  the  centuries,  does  do 
this,  as  we  have  shown, — has  crowned  this  work 
of  highest  master  and  condemned  that.  But  the 
178 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

process  is  too  long  and  costly.  A  long  course 
of  false  enjoyment,  of  self-delusion,  will  lead  to 
eventual  revulsion  ;  but  it  is  not  the  only  way 
nor  the  best.  It  is  like  choosing  food  by  first 
sickening  of  poison,  by  the  brute  process  of 
elimination  or  exclusion.  What  we  need  and 
want  is  the  positive,  instant  choice  of  the  best 
by  intuition,  whetted  by  constant  and  sober  vigi- 
lance. Thus  the  keen  sense  of  the  leader  is 
shared  by  each  member  of  the  flock ;  the  truth 
lies  much  safer  in  the  combined  and  tested  judg- 
ment of  many,  where  each  is  equal  member  of 
the  court. 

Now  Schiller's  glorious  "  Ode  to  Joy"  runs  on 
to  the  resistless  pace  of  simple  hymn,  borne  by 
quartette  of  solo  voices  and  by  added  chorus. 
The  music  from  this  point  takes  the  second  place, 
the  words  of  the  poem  are  first ;  this  must  never 
be  forgotten.  The  label  is  not  the  picture,  nor 
the  poem  the  song.  The  setting  may  be  glori- 
ously apt,  overpoweringly  rich  ;  it  may  be  more 
movingly  beautiful,  it  may  be  infinitely  more  im- 
portant in  its  poetic  wealth  and  burden,  in  the 
strength  of  emotion  which  it  carries  and  con- 
veys ;  but  it  does  not  usurp  the  place  of  verse 

in  expressing  the  artistic  purpose.     It  may  not 
179 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

exceed  this  purpose ;  it  may  not  start  on  an 
unhindered  career  to  try  its  own  independent  bur- 
den. At  best  it  is  wedded  to  the  verse  in  marriage 
of  equal  dignity  as  to  beauty  and  power.  As  to 
meaning,  it  can  no  more  than  reinforce  and  en- 
rich. The  whole  function  of  the  meaning  of 
independent  music  now  loses  its  raison  d'etre, 
gives  way  to  the  definite  tenor  of  the  words. 
The  meaning  of  music,  as  it  can  be  given  in 
pure  instrumental  forms,  is  dependent  on  the 
spontaneous,  though  inevitable  flow  of  each  part 
and  of  all  the  parts  to  a  convincing  whole,  where 
the  literal  title  is  as  small  as  the  limitations  are 
large.  Little  as  it  can  be  denned  in  prose  words, 
it  is  overwhelming  in  its  ethical  import  and  its 
emotional  power.  The  proof,  as  we  have  often 
said,  lies  in  the  verifying  agreement  of  all  parts 
in  the  whole. 

All  this,  that  clearly  seems  the  noblest  function 
of  music,  is  least  when  refuge  is  taken  to  verse. 
So  it  is  that  from  this  point  the  symphonic  qual- 
ity, in  the  free  instrumental  development  and  dis- 
cussion, disappears.  As  to  form,  we  have  merely 
separate  verses  of  the  hymn,  set  in  varying  shades 
of  fulness,  with  no  musical  internal  connection. 
The  whole  function  of  musical  sequence,  corre- 
ilo 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

spondence,  development,  discussion,  and  final 
convincing  climax  has  vanished. 

There  is  no  reason,  however,  in  the  special  in- 
stance, why  the  enriching  beauties  of  the  setting 
should  be  ignored,  more  than  in  a  song  of  Schu- 
bert;  but  our  own  work  becomes  secondary, 
much  easier,  of  much  lesser  dignity,  the  mere 
perception  of  this  and  that  detail.  The  keen 
scent  for  profound  musical  significance  takes  a 
holiday. 

As  the  strings  follow  the  singers  in  the  first 
verse,  an  opposite  melody  appears  high  in  oboes ; 
to  which  a  choir  of  woodwind  soon  rears  a  song 
of  new  beauty  on  the  hymn  in  the  bass : 

(Woodwind  redoubled.) 
(Brass,  reinforcing  the  hymn.) 


By    thy     mag-ic     charm       is  heal-ed 


now  the  voices  themselves  weave  a  fuller  harmony, 
the  bass  freely  rolling  through  a  melodious  course 


181 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 

of  lesser  passing  tones,  to  which  the  oboes  and 
fagots  give  answering  phrase : 


SOLI  ALTO,  TENOR,  BASS. 


(Oboe,  doubled  in  lower  fagots.) 


as  the  climax  is  reached,  the  whole  orchestra 
join,  either  in  redoubled  melody  or  in  enlivened 
rhythm.  Then  the  voices  disguise  the  tune  in 
varied  manner,  though  the  harmonic  character 
is  never  lost,  under  the  mask  of  outer  change. 
The  instruments  either  follow  and  echo  the  voices 

or  spur  them  with  trills  and  other  rhythmic  tricks. 

182 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 

SOLI  TENOR  AND  BASS. 

(With  very  light  assistance  of  wood,  horns  and  basses.) 


Hea     -    ven-ly       Joy   all        earth-ly       crea-tures 


Drink,  of        Na    -     ture's      fount  •  ain     source, 
(See  page  182,  line  7.) 

Towards  the  end  of  this  division  the  voices,  of 
which  the  chorus  and  solo  quartette  have  been 
singing  alternate  strains,  leave  to  the  woodwind 
the  melodic  text  of  the  tune  and  sing  a  chorale 
to  the  line : 

"  Cherub  before  God  draws  breath," 

in  phrase  of  utmost  simplicity,  ending  in  fervent 
climax. 

Alia  marcia  allegro  assai  vivace.  In  spirit  of 
march,  in  liveliest  cheer,  in  tensest  pace,  height- 
ened by  a  subtle  sound  of  occasional  clattering 
hoof,  comes  a  new  tripping  pace  of  the  old  hymn, 
first  in  wordless  tones  of  whispering  band.  In* 
its  refrain  solo  tenor  joins  the  flight  with  a  stirring 

verse : 

183 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 


WOOD  AND  BRASS. 
•  Allegro  as  sat  vivace. 


oTj     J^ 

U«=-vl        IN     1  1  r*    l<— 

zQf^3 

ous              as  the 

suns             are 

fly     -     ing 

^*^b  — 

K     r 

-f^  

TPNOR  SOLO. 

singing  the  hymn  or  agreeing  countertheme  as 
he  sweetly  lists,  adding,  not  doubling,  a  new  swing 
of  independent  phrase,  not  bound  to  the  slavish 
trip  of  wordless  voices  :  now  a  resounding  bass, 
now  the  tune,  now  a  new  melody ;  singing  to 
the  middle  strain  the  line : 

"  Brothers,  run  your  high  career!  " 

back  to  the  first : 

"Joyous  as  a  hero  conqu'ring," 
184 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

to  which  the  full  chorus  of  men  echo,  ending  the 
verse  all  together,  not  without  special  after-strain. 
Whence  on  double  theme,  quick  and  slower, 
both  from  the  heart  of  the  main  tune : 


CLARINETS,  VIOLINS  AND  HORNS. 


too  close-knit  for  fettering  words,  the  instnimental 
wing  of  muse  soars  free  to  dazzling  abandon 
of  gayest  fugal  maze,  where  here  the  coursing 
motive,  there  the  sonorous  line  of  hymn,  each  in 
various  crowning  phrases,  weave  their  festal  woof, 
so  that  eye  and  ear  despair  of  tracing  the  threads. 
185 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

At  the  thickest,  at  least  six  independent  melodies 
are  singing  at  once  their  sweetly  clashing  madri- 
gal. As  the  fray  lapses  tor  a  breath,  we  discern 
for  a  moment  dainty  sequence  of  agreeing  strides 
returning  to  the  strife,  ending  in  big  stentorian 
unison  calls  to  the  mighty  rhythm.  Distant 
strains  of  the  simple  hymn  approach  and  lead 
to  chorus  on  the  original  verse : 

"Joy,  thou  spark  of  Heaven  descended." 

But  the  lowest  bass  cannot  be  restrained  and  goes 
coursing  in  precipitous  career  to  the  fervent  song 
of  noble  hymn.  At  once  is  poise  of  meaning 
and  purpose,  and  exalted,  headlong  drive  of  re- 
sistless action  "in  drunken  ecstasy," — simply, 
with  a  refrain  of  parting  line  of  first  verse.  The 
tumultuous  march  is  over. 

Andante  maestoso.  In  majestic  gait,  too  fer- 
vent for  rhythmic  utterance,  the  basses,  sustained 
by  the  brass,  shout  solemn  tones  of  new  chorale 
of  final  call : 

CHORUS  OF  TENORS  AND  BASSES. 
(Reinforced  by  strings  and  trombones.) 
Andante  maestoso. 


Be     em  -  bra  -  ced,    mil     -       lions    all; 
i85 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

(Male  chorus,   reinforced  by  trombones.) 

/—•-.,  %a-.    JL    $a-       -fi-  &*L 

Broth     -     ers,  o'er     the    star  -  ry     tent 

answered  by  full  chorus,  universal,  men  and 
women,  backed  by  all  the  band  of"  woodwind  and 
lower  brass,  while  the  quick  motive  and  melodic 
reminder  of  the  old  air  sound  in  statelier  strum 
of  strings,  rearing  a  climax  on  the  second  line  : 

"  This  kiss  for  the  world  is  meant  !" 

Again  the  solemn,  simple  strain  of  men  and  of 
brass  sounds  the  next  lines : 

"  Brothers,  o'er  the  starry  tent 
Is  a  Father's  kindly  thrall." 

On  the  same  plan  the  chorus  of  singers  and  in- 
struments affirm  the  great  appeal ;  nothing  but 
tripping  strain  reminds  us  of  original  air, — mere 
solemn  fervent  chant. 

Suddenly  we  turn  into  still  more  pious  mood, 
adagio  ma  non  troppo^  ma  divoto,  in  all  but  slowest 
pace  of  prayerful  song,  where  melodic  quick 

beat  has  vanished,  but  the  stem  chanting  tones 
187 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH  SYMPHONY 


have  more  of  devout  beauty.  As  the  woodwind 
and  low  strings  lead  and  guide  the  hymn,  the 
full  chorus  sound  the  solemn  ending  line  of  the 
Ode: 


(Mixed  chorus,  reinforced  by  woodwind  and  low  strings.) 
^/    Adagio  ma  non  lrof>po,  ma  divot o. 

&     0       «fc 


tt* 
Ye          lie 


'-a 


pros-trate, 


myr 


1 r~ 

In  the  third  line  : 

"  .  .  .  o'er  the  starry  tent," 
trombones  add  their  blast ;  in  the  last : 

"  Is  a  loving  Father's  thrall," 

high  strings  and  all  the  basses  join  in  tensest 
whispering  chorus.  Just  as  all  sense  of  tune  has 
gone,  the  lay  of  original  hymn  dances  into  the 
midst,  allegro  energico  sempre  ben  marcato^  in 
clearest  accent,  though  ever  in  liveliest,  springing 
tread,  and  the  singers,  led  by  women,  break  with- 
out prelude  into  the  original  joyous  verse  : 

"Joy,  thou  spark  of  Heaven  descended." 
1 83 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

Acme  of  glee  is  added  by  nervous,  quickest 
coursing,  first  of  violins,  then  of  basses  of  wood 
and  strings ;  later  by  both  groups. 

The  full  instrumental  freedom  of  the  previous 
chorus  might,  after  all,  point  to  a  combined  form, 
where  voices  are  but  trumpet  tones  of  legend,  ap- 
pearing here  and  there,  the  instruments  being  al- 
lowed a  full  formal  career.  The  only  weakness, 
then,  is  the  limiting  significance  of  words,  which 
may,  after  all,  be  no  more  than  Schumann's  title, 
— i.e.,  when  they  can  be  found  exactly  to  fit  the 
original  mood,  heightening  and  not  weakening  the 
pure  musical  meaning.  They  may  then  not  dom- 
inate, but  take  their  place  in  the  ranks,  though 
in  simplest  lines  merely,  carefully  hedged  from 
leadership  and  interference.  Thus  such  a  highest 
form  would  be,  if  not  reached,  yet  suggested  in 
the  previous  chorus. 

But  this  is  merely  a  half.  Through  the  midst 
of  joyous  dance  and  high  voices,  and  long  tones 
of  altos,  sustained  by  clarinets  and  brass,  sounds 
the  solemn  greeting : 

"  Be  embraced,  millions  all;" 

so  that  the  whole,  neither  dance  nor  chant,  is  a 

completed  pcean  of  universal  profound  joy,  uniting 

189 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

all  of  individual  Ecstasy  and  Love,  acme  of  the 
ideal  state  of  art,  when  highest  personal  bliss 
joins  in  strongest  humanity,  crowned  to  perfect 
state  of  outer  beauty  and  of  inner  detail,  Greek 
ideal  meeting  Christian  in  simple  spontaneous  joy. 
All  through  the  two  completing  chants,  the 
pagan  bliss,  the  Christian  kiss,  are  closely  bound, 
interchanging  voices  and  places.  The  basses  now 
sing  the  blissful  dance,  tenor  and  alto  hold  the 
chant,  interspersed  horns  and  other  voices  ring  out 
short  invocations,  while,  all  about,  the  rushing 
phrase,  which  first  appeared  at  intervals,  ever  ac- 
companies the  hymnal  melody,  spurring  and 
stirring  the  bacchanalian  pace.  One  voice  ends 
the  phrase  of  greeting  and  another  instantly 
catches  it  on  lower  or  higher  plane,  or  two  chant 
it  in  duet,  while  the  other  two  sing  the  dance  ot 
joy  in  canon ;  now  double  canon  is  sounding  on 
both  melodies,  ranging  the  speechless  armies,  each 
in  their  lines.  After  final,  united  burst,  low  basses 
sing  hushed,  to  dim  strumming  of  lower  wood, 
the  after-strain  : 

"  Ye  lie  prostrate,  myriads  all," 

all  changed    in    rhythm,  tune,  design.     Single- 
toned,  to    vaguest   strums,  each  separate  voice 
190 


BEETHOVEN'S   NINTH   SYMPHONY 


sings  the  question  in  turn ;  all  answer  together  in 
unison,  joining  in  sweet  accord  on  the  last  phrase : 

"  Brothers,  o'er  the  starry  tent," 

which  ends  the  chorus  in  gentle  harmony  of  calm 
faith. 

Final  Chorus.  A  new  swing, — the  chant  is 
gone,  the  dross  of  monkish  hymn  is  dropped,  all 
is  on  buoyant  wing,  in  highest  poetic  note,  as 
solo  tenor  and  bass  sing  the  new  strain  :  . 

Allegro  ma  non  tanto.  Joy  .  .  .     thou 

sempre  fifi 

3H3! 


(Quartet,  with  harmony  in  wood  and  horns.) 


to  the  first  rolling  verse,  the  verbal  motto  of  the 
Symphony,  while  strings  carry  on  the  cheering 
trip  which  they  have  first  played  alone  as  prelude : 


Allegro  ma  non  tanto. 


STRINGS. 
191 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

chiming  softly  against  the  singers  in  rhythmic 
and  melodic  clash  of  oboe,  that  sweetly  grows 
in  harmony.  Treading  on  their  heels,  the  higher 
solos  try  the  same  tune  with  their  own  friendly 
opposing  flute.  In  the  same  pinching  way,  lower 
woodwind  and  flute  continue  the  song,  and  now, 
without  words  between  the  verses,  the  prelude 
phrase  is  ever  tripping  along  in  contrary  lines. 
The  whole  is  a  merry,  exalted  madrigal,  where 
voices  and  instruments  take  equal  part.  Now 
they  slide  gently  into  the  second  phrase  in  purer, 
simpler  song : 

SOLO  VOICES, 
SOP.  By        (  by )  thy   ma  -  gic   charm    is      heal  -  ed 


f? 

l.  By     thy 


ALTO.'  I        | 

(With  stacc.  wood  TENOR.  By     thy      ma  -  gic 

and  pizz.  strings.) 

where  bass  takes  up  the  air  of  soprano,  which  finds 
another  tune  above.  Indeed,  each  of  the  four 
solo  voices  has  entered  in  its  separate  turn  on  the 
tune,  and  each  follows  the  chorus  of  the  first,  all 
singing  away  as  in  busy  hive  the  sunny  magic 
of  healing  Joy,  while  the  song  circles  about  in 
dizzy  maze.  Presently,  when  solo  voices  and 
instruments  are  thus  started  on  the  merry  round, 
192 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

the  chorus  steal  in,  whispering  the  tune  in  uni- 
son single  phrase  of  the  "  magic  charm,"  where 
all  voices  and  band  shout  forth  the  line : 

"  Despot  Fashion's  cruel  pain," 

in  ascending  figure,  entering,  in  loud  climax : 

"  All  mankind  are  clasped," 

ending  the  verse  in  slow,  gently  winding  cadence  : 

"  Under  thy  bewitching  reign." 

Again  the  gentle  ascent  and  strong  burst  of  song ; 
in  closing,  the  solo  voices  light  on  a  new  pitch  of 
tune  and  carol  the  ending  line  in  freer  course  of 
trilling  cadence. 

Now  the  voices  veer  to  the  original  tone ;  a 
newer,  vaster  gathering  pace  is  struck,  hurrying 
with  increasing  power  into  loudest  chorus  in 
fastest  motion,  a  final  cosmic  appeal  : 

Prestissimo.    (Countertheme  in  woodwind.) 

fltt J 9      *         • t— i Z  4— -      L.  ~ -. 

rx^flitr— f    f     i*         r    f  ^^   t — 
vm^  j     \      [  — ^TT     i  — -\     \     1 

*J        f    Be        em  -   bra  -  ced,      mil  -  lions     all;    This 
UNISON,  MIXED  CHORUS. 


kiss  ....     for        the      world       is       meant! 
'3  193 


BEETHOVEN'S  NINTH   SYMPHONY 

where  the  literal  air,  but  not  the  mood  or  spirit, 
is  new,  with  complete  phrase  in  instruments ;  the 
answer  is  pure  glee, — song  of  rejoicing,  struck 
again  and  again  by  instruments : 

(Tutti,  in  four  octaves.) 


(Played  four  times,  then  sung  four  times,  in  succession.) 

finally  reaching  the  singers  on  the  line : 

"Is  a  loving  Father's  thrall." 

The  mighty  climax  is  in  slower  notes  of  sup- 
pressed emotion : 

"This  kiss  for  the  world  is  meant!" 

To  the  dying  peals,  still  in  highest  climax,  the 
first  verse,  chant  of  the  Goddess,  returns,  while 
in  the  wild  maze  of  raging  tones  the  motive  of 
the  original  hymn  gleams  here  and  there,  simply 
at  first  and  redoubled  in  speed,  all  together  in 
careless  abandon  of  celebration. 


'94 


VIII 

SCHUMANN 

FIRS J^  SYMPHONY,  IN  B  FLAT* 

AT  rough  glance  this  first  of  Schumann's 
JL\.  symphonies  seems  to  begin  in  a  way  fre- 
quent with  older  masters :  the  premise  of  a 
motto,  a  basic  theme  of  the  whole.  Such 
appears  the  beginning  phrase,  in  horns  and 
trumpets  : 

Andante  un  poco  maestoso 


in  slow,  heavily  measured  stride,  acclaimed  by 
echoing  chorus.  Gradually  the  tempo  quickens 
in  the  same  figure,  with  ever  growing  sound,  until 
from  majestic  march  we  have  dashed  into  liveliest 
gayety.  Now  the  theme  is  here  in  the  same 
movement,  though  transformed  in  rate  : 

*Op.  38,  composed  in  1841. 
195 


SCHUMANN 


(Full  orchestra.) 
Allegro  molto  vivace. 


(Bass  doubled  in  two  lower  octaves.) 


We  might  very  well  presume  the  basic  quality 
of  our  original  strain.  But  we  must  be  chary  in 
this  kind  of  reading.  It  is  best  not  to  fasten  a 
prejudice  of  meaning  too  early  in  a  work.  Let 
the  poet  develop  it  to  our  unbiassed  ear.  Perhaps 
the  prelude  is  merely  like  one  of  those  Adagio 
beginnings  of  Haydn,  which  in  their  restraint 
of  emotion  but  whet  our  wish  for. the  dance. 
The  whole  symphony  has  no  deep,  philosophic 
quality.  It  is  simply  unpremeditated  joy, — writ- 
ten at  the  climax  of  the  poet's  happiness.  We 
ourselves  will  enjoy  it  the  more  without  too 
anxious  searching  for  latent  currents. 

This  Allegro  theme  begins  with  the  most  in- 
fectious spirit  in  the  full  band,  answered  saucily 
in  2  running  phrase  from  violins : 
196 


SCHUMANN 

(Violins,  doubled  in  lower  8ves.) 


The  jolly  repartee  continues  until,  in  the  second 
melody,  there  is  an  outward  droop  of  mood.  At 
least  from  the  electric  sprightliness  of  the  main 
tune  and  its  setting  there  is  a  sudden  change  to  a 
naive,  personal  vein. 

On  the  wing  of  the  little  accompanying  strain, 
moving  ever  higher  and  higher,  we  are  borne 
back  to  the  plane  of  the  first  melody. 

Now,  after  the  repeated  sketching  of  charac- 
ters, comes  the  telling  of  the  story.  See  how 
spins  the  yarn  of  old  ballad,  literally  from  the 
197 


SCHUMANN 


CLARINETS  AND  FAGOTS. 


-2L 

^__J  VIOLAS.  s^—- 

(Seepage  197,  line  5.) 

thread  of  the  quick  main  melody.  The  low 
strings  make  a  basic  plot  of  ominous  bustle, 
while  aloft  in  the  wood  sings  a  clear  idyl  of  deli- 
cate fancy,  of  a  sentiment  not  free  from  a  sombre 
hue: 

dolce.  (In  woodwind.) 


staccato.  (Strings,  doubled  below.) 


It  is  all  most  poetical.  To  be  sure,  there  is  a 
constant  drift  back  to  the  gay  dance  of  the  first 
subject.  But  Schumann  has  the  real  story-telling 
instinct.  Before  you  are  aware,  he  has  spun  an- 
other thread  into  a  sequence  of  narrative,  —  one 
that  first  appeared  in  closing  the  statement  of 

subjects  : 

198 


SCHUMANN 

(Themes  in  woodwind,  each  doubled  in  8ves  ) 

a 

«- 


crescendo^ 
(Full  accompaniment  of  strings  in  triplet  figure.) 


By  natural  flow  in  answering  voices  there  is 
gradually  massed  an  overpowering  climax,  where, 
as  the  woodwind  hold  the  long  chords,  and  the 
strings  are  running  in  doubly  quickened  figure, 
the  brass  sound  the  original  big  legend  with 
greater  solemnity  than  ever,  ending  in  a  long 
pause.  Then  back  to  the  swing  of  the  Allegro, 
with  both  melodies,  now  ending  in  a  rollicking 
gale  on  the  trip  of  the  main  subject,  when  sud- 
denly—  here  is  one  of  those  puzzling  touches  of 
Schumann.  New  it  is  in  melody,  but  integral 
part  of  the  whole  poem,  like  a  figure  that  has 
long  been  in  the  background.  It  is  that  kind  of 
secular  hymn  in  which  Schumann,  towards  the 
close,  before  the  final  burst,  will  give  a  special, 
poetic,  conclusive  confidence.  Here  it  is  first 
given  in  the  strings,  then  it  is  published  farther, 
with  fuller  voice  in  larger  chorus.  After  its  close 
the  motto  is  sounded  in  fine  conflict  of  brass  and 
woodwind,  followed  by  a  spirited  ending. 
199 


SCHUMANN 


£^=j 


P/P 


dolce. 


¥ 


(Bass,  doubled  below.) 

(See  page  199,  line  17.) 


The  Larghetto  is  one  simple,  sincere  song,  a 
stay  of  merriment ;  but  there  is  no  sadness,  rather 
a  settled,  deep  content : 


(Strings,  doubled  in  8ves.) 
Larghetto. 


SCHUMANN 


There  is  none  of  the  strife  of  discussion,  nor  the 
thread  of  story  ;  but  there  is  the  clear,  steady  out- 
pouring of  melody.  Both  subjects  are  sung 
clearly,  almost  beyond  the  need  of  quoting. 
The  second  is  a  mere  episodal  foil  to  the  mood 
and  flow  of  the  first  : 


(Phrase  echoed  from  wood  to  strings. 


But  what  would,  in  epic  Allegro,  be  discussion,  is 
here,  in  lyric  Andante,  a  kind  of  tonal  musing 
on  a  strain 


E±£: 


1 


gotten    somehow   from  the   close  of  the  main 
theme,  cast  about  in  voices  of  wood  and  strings, 


SCHUMANN 

while   cellos   and   violas   are   at   the   same   time 
discussing  another : 


The  main  melody,  before  sung  in  cellos,  now 
sounds  high  in  clear  oboes  and  octave  horns, 
with  rich  wreathing  of  entwined  strings.  Perhaps 
best  of  all  are  the  last  touches,  like  concluding 
words  of  sincere  farewell. 

In  the  Scherzo  (motto  vivace)  is  a  return  to 
pure  individual  exuberance,  free  from  all  burden 
of  hidden  connection  or  of  deep  meaning  : 


STRINGS. 
Scherzo.  Motto  vivace. 


There  is  no  mistaking  the  clear  succession  of 
melodies.  The  minor  key  adds  no  sombre  tinge, 
though  it  may  give  a  certain  boisterous  air.  By 


SCHUMANN 


contrast,  the  first  Trio  has  the  daintiest,  most 
intimate  naivete  in  all  music,  though  it  is  almost 
too  quickly  said  to  catch  : 


TRIO.  .~\fol/o  f»'n  rivace. 


(Alternations  of  string  and  woodwind.) 

There  is  an  air  (or  a  trick)  of  leaving  much 
\insaid,  a  sort  of  "  you  know"  in  tones,  wherein 
lies  the  effect  of  this  special  confidence.  Music- 
ally, it  consists  in  omitting  the  transition  from 
one  chord  to  another,  leaving  it  to  the  hearer, — 
also  by  the  light  suggestiveness  of  rhythm,  hop- 
ping from  a  question  on  high  to  its  answer  far 
below.  This  responsiveness  lends  itself  to  much 
playful  halting  and  coquetry. 

The  second  Trio  is  rather  the  reflective  stage  ; 
there  are  no  new  sensations  or  emotions. 

The  end  is  full  of  lightest  poetry.  The  Coda 
is  a  last  conclusive  strain  from  the  second  melody 
203 


SCHUMANN 


TRIO  II. 
(Strings,  with  rhythmic  chords  in  the  wood.) 

^  x    *   AL    .Ll    J 


rfsc.       .1 . 

ail 


'  * 


cresc.  sf 

(See  page  203,  line  14.) 

of  the  first  Trio.  Then,  again,  in  discourse  of 
wood  and  strings,  the  first  melody  of  the  latter 
breaks  into  articulate  pleading,  with  a  final  con- 
fident, serene  answer,  where  the  chords  of  strings 
are  quaintly  followed,  step  by  step,  by  echoing 
woodwind.  The  last  note  is  a  joint  whisper. 

Allegro  animate  e  grazioso.  The  Finale 
seems  to  have  the  gayety  of  the  ballroom.  There 
may  be  darker  figures  here  and  there,  but  they 
only  prove  to  be  in  masquerade,  with  an  air 
almost  of  flippant  frivolity. 

The  very  beginning,  to  be  sure,  is  a  broader 


strain : 


Allegro  animate  e  grazioso. 


SCHUMANN 

But  it  seems  mere  introduction,  a  more  contained 
utterance  of  the  joyous  feeling,  ending  with  a 
burst  of  childlike  simplicity. 

The  main  tune  has  the  infectious  gait  of  the 
dance : 


The  second  melody  has  a  legendary  tinge  that 
is  belied  by  its  lightness 


izz.  STRINGS  AND  WOODWIND. 


T 


205 


SCHUMANN 

and  by  the  comic  interruption  of  a  rough 
unison  phrase,  which  has  a  decided  mock  serious- 
ness. Not  until  it  has  ended  do  we  suspect 
that  it  is,  after  all,  the  same  as  our  supposed 
introduction. 

Presently  it  breaks  in  with  full  chorus,  and 
now,  though  in  soft  wood,  it  spins  a  whole 
melody  out  of  the  brief  phrase.  When  this  is 
echoed  in  loudest  acclaim  and  ends  in  triumphant, 
lengthy  cadence,  we  are  bewildered  with  the 
dignity  of  the  brief  strain  that  seemed  mere  pre- 
lude or  fanfare.  We  are  beginning  to  feel  that 
it  is  the  pivotal  phrase  of  all.  It  seems  here, 
indeed,  to  fill  a  special  part,  quite  new  in  music, 
that  Schumann  himself  discovered.  It  is  like  the 
last  of  the  children's  "  scenes,"  where  "  the  poet 
speaks."*  For  here  we  have,  besides  the  objective 
melodies  of  official  rank,  another  of  more  inti- 
mate utterance  of  the  poet's  own  thought,  hover- 
ing about  the  other  two.  It  is  exactly  the  free 
preface  of  the  story-teller,  his  recurring  asides  and 
humorous  sallies. 

But  the  conclusion-  of  the  statement  dispels 
flippancy  and  restores  sincerity.  At  the  outset 


*  Schumann,  op.   I  5. 
206 


SCHUMANN 

of  the  discussion  we  begin  with  the  most  serious 
end  of  our  subjective  strain  : 


STRINGS. 


in  a  sombre  guise  ot  minor,  interrupted  ever  by 
the  major  chant  high  in  the  woodwind.  And 
now  comes  the  psychological  phase,  the  brown 
color  needed  of  a  fine  fugal  rumination  on  a 
solid  theme  suggested  from  the  earlier  comic 
interruption  : 

(Strings,  with  sustaining  horns.) 

^ 


(Bass,  in  lower  octave.^ 


But    here    it    is   in   sober  earnest, — there   is  no 
pretence.       It    is   very   serious   and   all   in   the 


207 


SCHUMANN 


thoughtful  strings.  Soon  the  theme  extends, 
with  the  delicious  duality  and  discussion  which 
means  progress  to  the  thinking  musician  : 


(Harmonies  in  woodwind.) 
| 

M 


(Doubled  above.)          ^^ 

&SL 


(Doubled  below.) 
(Melody  in  strings  and  low  brass.) 

Now,  as  the  strings  subside  into  a  mere  hum- 
ming background,  the  lighter  woodwind  take  up 
the  argument.  But  they  are  too  friendly  for 
serious  dispute,  and  they  soon  fall  into  mere 
sweet  responsive  song  ending  in  a  lyric  cadence 
in  solo  flute.  After  all,  in  the  strings  lies  the 
quality  of  musing  thought. 

From  the  cadence  we  are  back  in  the  dancing 
main  melody.  And  we  have  the  full  allowance 
of  all  the  original  tunes  again.  But,  mark  well, 
instead  of  ending,  here  comes  once  again  the 
discussion, — not  quite  as  before :  less  darkly 
musing;  brodder;  bringing  a  big,  deep  con- 
208 


SCHUMANN 

elusion  from  the  full  chorus.  We  seem  even  to 
hear  the  motto  suggested  in  the  brass.  The 
"  bone"  of  discussion,  if  not  of  contention,  de- 
velops at  the  end  into  firm  responsive  strains 
between  mixed  groups  of  brass,  wood,  and 
strings, — equal  factions  of  the  whole  band  : 

(Clarinets  doubled  above 
(Strings  in  vibration.)  in  oboes  and  flutes.) 

I 


FAGOTS  AND  HORNS. 
< Basses  strike  low  B  flat.) 

We  have  hardly  noticed  that  the  reflection 
was  all  on  the  initial  strain  of  the  poet's  thought. 
The  nominal  themes  have,  somehow,  vanished 
to  hazier  distance.  Then,  by  a  last  added  word 
of  rumination,  the  personal  message  is  brought 
home  more  closely.  Thus  does  the  formal  free- 
dom of  our  master  utter  a  certain  reality  of 
message.  In  the  growing  dominance  of  the 
poetic  phrase,  especially  in  the  glad  ending,  we 
are  borne  back  to  the  joyousness  of  the  beginning 
of  the  symphony.  There  is,  indeed,  a  clear  kin- 
ship of  these  basic  themes,  of  first  word  and  last. 
In  the  freedom  of  the  latest,  with  all  its  breadth, 
there  is  a  new  gain  ot  intimate  vein. 
14  209 


SCHUMANN 

FOURTH  SYMPHONY,   IN  D  MINOR* 

INTRODUCTION  ;  Allegro,  Romance,  Scherzo,  and 
Finale  "  in  einem  Satze," — runs  the  title, — all  in 
one.  This  means  much  more  than  mere  absence 
of  stop.  It  is  a  new  kind  of  plan,  and,  in  truth, 
makes  a  new  sort  of  work.  It  must  not  be  taken 
nor  tested  as  typical  symphony.  But,  by  our 
habit,  we  will  not  prejudge,  rather  let  the  music 
make  its  own  impression,  in  natural  course. 

After  long  note  on  unison  tone,  strings  and 
fagots,  in  friendly  agreement,  glide  down  and  up 
the  dreamily  poetic  phrase  : 

Rather  slowly.    WOODWIND,  STRINGS  AND  HORNS. 
^W> 


(The  A  sustained  throughout,  in  four  8ves.) 


Clarinets  then  join  the  pleasant  ramble,  that  has 
the  magic  of  unending  promise,  dotted  anon  by 
assured  rest  in  new  tonal  quarter,  where  the  origi- 

*  Op    I  20,  composed  in  1841,  rewritten  in  1851. 

2IO 


SCHUMANN 


nal  note,  long  sustained,  points  the  cadence  with 
sense  of  lesser  melody.  Still  more  voices  are 
now  gliding  hand  in  hand,  with  much  freer  path, 
too.  Though  the  placid  pace  is  never  broken, 
there  is  yet  an  almost  exultant,  swelling  tone  and 
movement, — and  we  have  said  nothing  of  the 
richness  of  contrary  figures  swaying  in  opposite 
ways,  and  meeting  all  in  glorious  harmony  of 
large  agreement.  At  the  height  of  the  ascent, 
all  burst  uncontrolled  into  big  conclusive  strain, 
that  dies  down  to  mere  soft  tread  of  basses.  A 
new,  quicker  figure  here  enters  timidly,  singing 


in  ever  rising  curves,  and  spurring  the  older  glide, 
until  it  bursts  in  full  bloom  of  melody  in  spirited 
:horus : 


Allegro. 


SCHUMANN 

But  the  heart  of  the  Allegro  is  ever  the  former 
timid  phrase ;  after  the  clear  and  definite  cadence 
in  home  tone,  it  steals  and  twines  with  intimate 
charm  its  playful  way  in  close,  though  gentle 
chase  of  voices, — like  constant  spray  of  brilliant 
fountain : 


WOODWIND  AND  STRINGS. 


Soon,  as  the  phrases  are  still  rising  from  below, 
an  answer  sings  from  above  with  cadence  of  sweet 
assurance  in  neighboring  tone  : 

WOODWIND  AND  STRINGS. 


The  same  pleasant  close  is  rung  in  the  first  tone, 
and  in  another,  yonder.     Now,   accompanying 


SCHUMANN 

the  Allegro  theme,  a  running  duet  comes  trip- 
ping down  in  strings  and  wood,  answered  fitly  in 
lower  voices  of  each  group.  Another  ascent, 
with  something  of  strain,  still  on  the  quicker 
phrase,  brings  first  a  noisy  descent,  and  then  the 
merriest  sort  of  close  with  abrupt  stop,  in  which 
the  melodious  motive  is  ever  eminent,  clear 
though  elusive.  Thence  the  whole  of  this  lively 
phrase  is  repeated. 

The  thoughtful  phase  must,  of  course,  begin 
in  playful  chase  of  rising  voices  on  the  first  quick 
motive  ;  but  it  is  all  in  far  distant  scene.  For, 
a  sudden  bolt  from  the  clear  sky  (one  loud  unison 
tone  of  descent)  has  shifted  the  whole  plane  of 
action,  as  if  by  magic.  We  are  far  away  in  the 
shade  of  some  woods,  without  the  least  of 
familiar  moorings.  The  chase  of  fairy  strain^ 
has  a  more  sombre  sound.  Now  the  first  full 
phrase  sings  aloud,  as  at  the  beginning,  in  distant 
minor  tone,  followed  by  hushed,  mysterious 
soughing  of  low  strings  and  almost  moaning  of 
wood.  Oft  repeated,  in  ever  new  shifting  tone, 
sings  the  strange  plaint.  Now  a  more  peaceful 
sense  steals  in,  and  then  in  glad  major  the  phrase 
rings  out  a  last  joyous  verse,  to  start  into  being  a 
new  song,  clear  and  bright  of  tune  and  mood,  all 
"3 


SCHUMANN 

in  simple,  stirring  chords  as  of  war-song,  in  plain- 
est rhythm  (all  changed  from  mystic  rambling), 
that  now  holds  its  active  course  in  lower  voices, 
churning  the  current  of  rhythm  in  the  pauses  of 
the  new  song : 


(All  doubl 


The  two  are  perfectly  wedded,  the  running  phrase 
ever  in  clear,  insistent  response,  phrase  for  phrase, 
having  the  wonderful  virtue  of  indefinite  thread, 
as  they  wander  and  fly  along  through  new  lights 
of  tone.  At  the  last  edge  of  the  journey  a  third 
figure  enters  the  scene,  perhaps  chief  of  all  in 
beauty. 

In  quiet  innocence  01  contained  wealth  of 
rhythm,  it  sings  as  it  seems  the  consummation  of 
all  the  story.  It  comes  at  the  nick  of  the  plot, 
as  if  all  else  had  prepared  for  the  full  effect  of  its 
beauty.  And  it  has  the  Schumann  way  of  a 
tune  speaking  as  if  in  words,  and  saying  its  mes- 
sage again  and  again,  ever  new  and  ever  welcome. 

The  strange  part  of  it  is  that  neither  of  these  two 
214 


SCHUMANN 


WOOD,  STRINGS  AND  HORNS. 
I 


(See  page  214, 


principal  tunes  has  any  official  business  with  the 
design.  They  simply  complete  the  others,  are 
uttered  of  their  own  necessity,  not  for,  but 
against  formal  reason.  The  final  melody  simply 
blossoms  out  of  the  discussion  and  crowns  the 
whole. 

The  first  Allegro  theme  intrudes  its  say  as  if 
jealous,  but  yields  instantly  to  the  quiet  power  of 
the  new  melody,  returns  again  to  the  attack,  and 
215 


SCHUMANN 

now  brings  a  bit  of  the  martial  song  in  its  wake. 
Again  follows  the  sombre  verse  in  minor,  with 
plaintive  answer  of  wood  and  strings.  Then  sings 
the  triumphant  duet  of  first  motive  and  joyous 
war-song,  two  songs  woven  in  one,  blended  or 
wedded  by  force  of  their  difference  and  contrast. 
To  be  sure,  the  sharp  accents  of  the  warrior  tune 
hold  higher  sway  over  the  phrases  of  theme, 
which  merely  fill  the  gaps,  and  it  winds  its  full 
course  unhindered,  repeating  or  halting,  as  it 
lists. 

And  yet  the  companion  seems  ever  in  perfect 
place,  almost  part  of  the  other.  A  true  journey 
it  is,  of  two ;  for,  most  clearly  they  appear  be- 
fore our  eyes  always  in  some  new  quarter  (of 
tone) ,  where  they  sing  their  gay  story.  At  the  top 
of  the  climb  they  both  pause  for  a  long  breath. 
Then,  as  before,  the  latest  melody  steps  on  the 
scene,  somehow  solving  all  questions  with  the 
magic  of  its  beauty,  like  fairy  in  old  story. 

But,  of  course,  the  formal  hero  is  the  first 
theme,  that  breaks  for  a  moment  into  the  latest, 
gentle  melody,  appears  again  with  his  martial 
companion,  and  finally  sings  the  whole  original 
refrain  as  at  the  beginning.  Instead  of  the 
former  airy  chase  of  sprites  (of  the  motive) ,  there 
216 


SCHUMANN 

is  now  a  much  more  serious  discussion.  The 
whole  first  phrase  sings  and  dins  its  say  on 
rising  scale  of  pitch,  each  tone  clashing  roughly 
against  the  last,  with  academic  zeal.  Suddenly 
it  ceases, — as  if  the  final  triumph  were  not  a  mat- 
ter of  mere  argument.  Instead,  a  vague  trem- 
bling of  voices  leads  on  simplest  phrase,  with 
broad  swelling  volume,  suddenly  to  bright  pace 
of  war-song,  followed  ever  by  loyal  phrase  of 
theme.  It  is  briefer  than  before,  rises  to  higher 
scene  before  singing  a  full  line.  There  is,  in- 
deed, a  pent,  electric  state  all  about.  Suddenly 
into  the  midst  sings  the  fairy  tune,  like  final  es- 
sence or  spirit  of  all  the  strife,  and  with  a  freer, 
bolder,  and  even  more  joyous  wing  of  melody, 
stronger,  too,  of  tone,  and  lastly,  with  actual 
martial  force  and  spirit,  so  that  we  hardly  know 
our  gentle  figure  in  the  full  equipment  of  Pallas 
Athene,  taking  sovereign  possession,  not  merely 
entering  gently  as  visiting  spirit, — striding  about 
with  awing  majesty.  Though  our  first  main 
theme  returns,  it  is  no  longer  as  principal.  There 
is  no  more  to  say.  The  rest  is  a  mere  general 
good-by,  said  noisily  .and  frequently.  The  real 
last  word  has  been  spoken,  and  not  by  the 

"hero," — by   none  of   the  principals, — by  this 
217 


SCHUMANN 

figure   that  entered   with  least  importance,  and 
by  purest  natural  right  took  the  lead  of  all. 

The  significant  link  of  suspended  chord  carries 
us  over  from  the  Allegro  to  the  Romanze  without 
the  usual  formal  gulf.  All  the  air  and  fragrance 
of  ancient  (German)  ballad  breathes  here.  Words 
are  not  needed.  The  essence  is  there.  That  is 
the  great  truth  about  music,  the  directness  of  its 
power  and  beauty.  In  simple  swing  of  minor 
strain  lies  a  clear  verse  of  ancient  legend  : 

(Solo  oboe,  doubled  below  in  cello.) 
Romanze :,  rather  slowly. 


After  a  cadence  flows  the  dreamy  glide  of  friendly 
voices  of  the  beginning,  It  seems  now  to  find 
its  true  place  and  beauty.  A  special  magic  lies 
in  the  subjective  touch  of  the  original  phrase  of 
introduction,  that  comes  after  the  line  of  ballad, — 
-exactly  as  if  the  poet,  after  a  verse  of  classic 
.story,  has  another  of  his  own  modern  thought 
218 


SCHUMANN 

and  say.  With  swelling  chorus,  really  in  big 
double  movement,  one  group  rising  as  the  other 
descends,  the  broad  conclusive  strain  comes 
sweeping  down,  and  ends — most  quaintly  in  a 
line  of  the  ballad. 

There  comes  a  verse  that  makes  us  sigh  for  a 
mint  of  new  words,  to  give  sense  of  a  more  inti- 
mate poetry,  a  more  delicate  fragrance  of  special 
message  than  music  seems  ever  to  have  borne. 
The  former  even  glide  is  topped  in  high  strings 
with  accompanying  gentle  ripple  of  melodious 
flow : 

STRINGS  AND  HORNS. 


pizz. 

(Basses  8ve  lower.) 

It  is  all,  one  sees  instantly,  the  subjective  vein, 
not  the  legend,  and  it  ends  in  a  peculiar  burst  of 
confidence.  This  seems  to  prompt  a  melodic 
observation  that,  with  perfect  sequence  of  inner 
meaning,  is  outwardly  all  new  : 
219 


SCHUMANN 


STRINGS,  HORNS  AND  FAGOTS. 


and  returns  to  the  preceding  vein  of  gliding 
phrase,  again  with  the  gentle  ripple  of  high 
strings,  and  the  appealing  burst  at  the  close.  The 
latter  phrase  is  repeated,  and  leads  to  a  concluding 
verse  of  the  ballad. 

In  lively,  speedy  humor  the  Scherzo  dances 
noisily  upon  the  scene.  He  comes  in  "  like  a 
lion,"  shaking  his  blustering  locks.  There  is  a 
whirling  dance,  of  heavy  trip  but  rushing  pace, 
where  every  phrase  is  echoed  below  almost  in 
comedy  : 


Scherzo*.    Vivace. 


(Tutti,  with  reinforced  harmonies.)    (InSves.) 

and  the  answer  of  main  tune  is  a  chain  of  halt- 
ing, jolting  thuds,  singing  in  irregular  beat, — like 


SCHUMANN 

a  line  of  stone-hewers  steadily  striking  out  of 


time  ;• 


This  is  all  repeated,  and  the  dance  goes  discours- 
ing freely  on  main  theme,  soon  simmering  down 
more  timidly,  but  with  the  constant  play  of 
mocking  echo.  It  has  fallen  from  the  first  fierce 
vehemence,  but  soon  rushes  to  the  original  dance 
with  stamping  thud  of  main  phrase  and  jolting 
strokes  of  answer.  All  this  second  phrase  is  re- 
peated, too. 

Schumann's  Trios  (of  symphony)  are  his  spe- 
cial spot  for  a  quiet  lyric,  almost  more  than  the 
Andantes.  He  confessed  his  own  poet  nature,  as 
stormy  "  Florestan"  and  gentle  "  Eusebius."  No- 
where is  this  clearer  than  in  his  Scherzos  and 
Trios. 

In  many  ways  the  Trio  is  like  the  indescribable 
first  strain  of  Allegro,  ever  in  outward  line  of 
waving  strings ;  and  this,  we  know,  was  but  a 


SCHUMANN 


WOOD  AND  STRINGS. 

(See  page  221,  line  17.) 

phrase  of  the  introduction.  Here,  in  the  com- 
mon kinship  of  themes,  as  well  as  in  its  un- 
broken flow,  this  work  is  unlike  other  sym- 
phonies ;  an  air  of  quiet  intimacy  pervades, — 
a  waiving  of  ceremony,  that  hardly  fits  with 
the  big  pomp  of  full-accoutred  symphony,  play- 
ing in  loudest  chorus  to  universal  audience. 
In  a  way  this  poem  is  like  certain  plays  that 
are  meant  for  quiet  reading  rather  than  visible 
action. 

The  flowing  curve  of  higher  strings  is  like  an 
earlier  verse  of  Allegro.  The  melody  itself  de- 
scends most  simply  and  rises  again  by  single 
steps.  But  there  is,  between  the  voices,  in  each 
accent  a  special  pinch  of  dainty  harmony,  that 
gives  the  whole  the  subtlest  fragrance.  Indeed, 
it  seems  too  delicate  for  profaning  words.  The 
very  rhythm  is  implied;  the  main  strokes  are 
merely  understood ;  and  so  there  is  no  final  beat. 
But,  after  rehearsing,  the  light,  downy  phrase  is 


SCHUMANN 

pregnant  theme  for  free  discoursing,  and  there  is 
ever  that  gentle,  magic  turn  of"  farthest  harmony ; 
and  a  broad  conclusion  is  not  wanting,  leading 
back  to  discussion. 

Of  course,  the  noisy  first  dance  of  Scherzo  re- 
turns, and  it  ought  to  end  in  tempest  of  romping 
frolic.  But  it  doesn't.  Without  the  least  right 
in  the  world,  the  gentle  Trio  steals  in  again  with 
all  its  special  message  and  finally  whispers  the 
last  word,  not  just  haltingly  nor  timidly,  but  as  if 
to  single  friend  in  softest  tone.  Thus  "  like  a 
lamb''  goes  out  our  Scherzo.  And  without  even 
a  pause,  the  poet  brings  us  in  the  same  whisper, 
'mid  trembling  strings,  to  a  strain  familiar  as  the 
theme  of  Allegro,  but  all  in  slow  pace,  long 
drawn  out ;  the  gay  phrase  almost  loses  its  sparkle. 

As  the  theme  repeats,  the  basses  moving  dimly 
through  changing  depths,  suddenly  out  from  the 
brass  starts  a  clear-marked  chant,  merely  three 
tones.  But  they  hark  back,  somewhere  in  the 
symphony ;  we  know  it  is  part  of  the  fibre, 
though  we  cannot  point  precisely,  until  with  ut- 
most strain  we  urge  reluctant  memory  to  cadence 
of  martial  song  in  distant  Allegro, — where  it 
rang  in  gladdest,  quickest  song.  Yet  here  it  is, 
the  same  motto,  in  solemn  to'nes  of  ancient  brass. 
223 


SCHUMANN 

And,  while  the  quicker  motive  is  almost  lost  in 
the  increasing  din,  they  sound  forth  in  fuller 
legend,  marking  again  the  firm  conclusion. 
Thence  the  whole  phrase  soon  recovers  its  own 
gayer  motion,  and  all  the  voices  rise  in  swelling 
sound  and  speed  to  loud  and  long  pause, — 
whence  bursts  the  full  flood  of  merriment. 

Even  here  see  the  close  knitting  of  common 
ties.  Who  ever  heard  before  of  the  theme  of  first 
Allegro  thus  running  most  fitly  in  the  fibre  of  the 
subject  of  the  last  ?  And  more  still,  the  answer- 
ing phrase  is  the  same  as  the  late  motto  of  brass 
and  the  early  war-song  : 


Nay,  the  whole  melody  is,  after  all,  nothing  but 
our  old  triumphant  duet  of  first  theme  and  mar- 
tial strain.  Of  difference  there  is  really  none. 
Only,  now  the  answer  is  given  a  full  say,  spin- 
224 


SCHUMANN 

ning  on  its  phrase  really  a  new  melody,  with  its 
own  special  answer.  On  it  flows,  seeming  to 
start  a  fiigal  argument,  when  a  new  answer  sings 
out  in  rollicking  strings  : 


STRINGS.    ,  i  — 

1 R_<d_T 


^S1 


-inrff 

(Melody  doubled  below  in  violas.) 


(Staccato  basses.) 

Here  is  the  first  real  romp  of  the  symphony, 
breaking  at  last  through  the  gentle  bonds  of 
gauzy  poetry,  with  soaring  swing  of  the  tune, 
scampering  of  lower  strings,  and,  withal,  a  mag- 
nificent motion,  as  of  galloping  chargers.  And 
they  ride  magnificently,  too,  ever  into  new  scenes, 
up  hill  and  down,  'neath  sun  and  clouds,  now  in 
soft  distance,  now  in  loudest  approach. 

The  gait  suddenly  changes.  Smoother  it  is, 
and  gentler  in  accent  and  movement ;  but  stead- 
ily onward  it  flows.  The  speed  all  remains.  A 
new  song  sounds  above,  in  high  wood  and  strings, 
as  gay  as  the  last,  but  with  a  more  appealing  note  : 

is  225 


SCHUMANN 


(Strings  and  wood,  higher  8ve  in  flutes.) 


Soon  its  dulcet  phrase  is  sung  in  close,  eager  mad- 
rigal, though  always  clear  of  contention. 

Indeed,  the  greatest  charm  comes  just  in  these 
sweet  rejoinders,  all  in  succession  down  the  carol- 
ling line.  As  the  jolly  refrain  of  themes  nears  the 
end,  there  are  some  skipping  after-phrases :  one 
borrowed  from  the  ruling  trip,  which  we  might 
call  the  motto  without  peril  of  special  meaning. 
Later  there  is,  to  be  sure,  some  spirit  of  argu- 
ment, as  a  fugal  theme  starts  with  running  scale, 
and  each  voice  treads  rudely  on  the  other's  heels. 
But  soon  they  fling  into  the  old  dancing  gait,  and 
return  to  the  whole  song  of  the  themes. 

The  discussion  is  real,  in  spite  of  all  the  merri- 
ment. First  there  is  a  firm,  almost  harsh  descent 
into  a  new  tone,  as  if  "  play  must  cease  ;  this  is 
real  earnest."  The  deep  tone  is  answered  twice 

by  loud  twang.     It   means  clearly  and  plainly 
226 


SCHUMANN 

nothing  whatever  but  "  Silence ;  room  for  the 
disputants !"  There  is  something  here  of  the 
academic  flavor  we  caught  in  the  Rhine  sym- 
phony,— each  party  beginning  in  clear  opposition, 
the  audience  applauding,  not  too  often.  The 
theme  can  be  no  other  than  the  motto,  the  old 
phrase  of  war-song,  now  built  to  full,  logical 
proportion : 

CELLOS  AND  FAGOTS. 


A  discussion,  to  be  real  and  worth  its  while, 
must  lead  somewhere.  So,  though  we  get  into 
technicalities,  and  we  have  some  narrow  brushes, 
there  is  a  true  sequence  that  leads  to  satisfying 
harmony  in  all  its  senses.  Soon  the  disputing 
voices  themselves  join  in  agreeing  shouts  of  ac- 
claim. Still,  it  is  ever  hardest  for  our  Romanti- 
cist to  give  up  the  moment  of  meditation.  Once 
again  he  returns  to  the  maze,  revolving  all  the  re- 
lated bits  of  thought  in  one,  for  final  conclusion. 
Mysterious  phrases  sound  about, — the  first  in 
horns  and  violas,  below  the  theme  of  violins ;  a 
broader  one  in  lower  strings : 
227 


SCHUMANN 

(Added  harmony 
(Strings  and  wood,  doubled  above.)  in  wood.) 

t  f       ^    ^r.f£\  **r  i 


VIOLAS  AND  HORNS,  marcato. 

later,  one  of  most  solemn  stride  in  united  band. 
We  can  just  discern  in  all  a  dim  relation  to  the 
main  fugal  theme,  in  varying  pace,  each  in  slower 
imitation  of  the  other, — getting  finally  down  to 
real  fundamentals,  closed  with  pausing  chord, 
whence,  of  a  sudden,  we  are  allowed  to  break 
into  the  old  romp,  halted  playfully  again  and 
again  by  the  pausing  chord.  The  frolic  runs 
here  and  there  into  changing  lights  and  in  wilder 
maze,  and  suddenly  drops  into  the  gentler 
scamper,  with  smoother  motion  and  no  less  joy- 
ous humor.  The  short  dispute  on  fugal  theme 
of  scale  ends,  as  at  first,  in  glad  cadence  and  long 
pausing  descent,  with  twang  of  chord.  But,  in- 
stead of  the  previous  discussion,  here  is  a  new 
melody,  though  closest  akin  to  the  others.  But 
it  has  the  quality  of  Schumann  of  summing 
all  the  essence  of  the  stirring  poetry  and  thought 
into  the  honey  of  its  melody.  It  is  a  kind  of 
summa  summarum  of  all  the  foregoing. 

The  rest,  dispute  though  it  seems,  is  mere  prc* 


SCHUMANN 

STRINGS,  WOOD  AND  HORNS. 


(Seepage  ia8,  line  16.) 

tence,  mere  fun, — breaking  out  more  openly  in 
the  next  "quicker"  phrase,  where,  as  in  Bee- 
thoven of  old,  bass  and  air  change  places,  with 
equal  completeness,  then  scamper  in  purest  frolic 
to — a  pause.  Here,  Presto,  begins  a  mad  fugue, 
literally  a  chase  of  voices  one  after  the  other  in 
new  coursing  theme : 


Presto. 


Sempre  forte. 


up  to  the  final  height,  whence,  after  one  more 
exchange  of  bass  and  treble,  the  end  comes  in 
melodious  acclaim  of  all  the  voices. 


229 


IX 

MENDELSSOHN  AND  RAFF 
PROGRAMME  MUSIC 

IN  various  guises  we  see  the  symphony  limited 
by  labels.  In  Beethoven's  "  Pastoral"  is  a 
frank  realism ;  actual  nature-sounds  are  a  part  of 
the  scheme.  On  the  other  hand,  in  Schumann's 
"Rhine"  Symphony,  the  title  is  merely  sug- 
gested. It  is  little  more  than  an  emblem  of  the 
spirit  of  Teuton  Romanticism  that  pervades  most 
<)f  the  German  music  of  the  century. 

It  is  quite  possible,  where  the  greatest  may  fail 
in  experiment,  that  a  lesser  may  find  the  secret. 
Indeed,  some  forms  seem  best  suited  to  a  gentler 
flight  of  muse.  Within  a  narrow  scope  it  is 
true  that  the  lesser  form  needs  the  lesser  poet. 
Versatility  is  not  a  symptom  of  highest  genius. 
Thus  in  the  strange  career  of  the  symphony  does 
it  come  about  that  in  the  limited  field,  where  the 
feeling  is  narrowed  to  the  sphere  of  some  familiar 
idea,  a  Raff  succeeded  though  a  Beethoven  failed. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  true  symphony  is 
a  very  different  poetry  from  the  entitled,  which 
030 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

makes  much  of  its  appeal  by  the  mere  trick  of 
association.  The  former  must  stand  or  fall  purely 
on  the  strength  of  its  own  content.  Where  pure 
music  is  the  direct  message,  the  other  is  diluted. 
The  lesser  is  far  the  easier,  leaning,  as  on  a  crutch, 
on  the  constant  suggestion  of  the  subject,  as  opera 
on  its  text.  Yet  there  is  no  ground  for  its  dis- 
paraging. There  is  no  reason  why  music  should 
not,  in  lower  flight,  hover  about  the  special 
themes  of  folk-lore,  with  narrower,  more  denned 
scope  of  feeling. 

The  "  Scotch"  Symphony.  That  Mendelssohn 
should  not  have  hit  nearer  the  mark  of  his  sym- 
phonies is  a  problem  of  its  own.  The  elements 
of  equipment  seemed  present  in  his  art, — above 
all,  a  sense  of  exquisite  tonal  utterance  of  the 
poetry  of  outside  objects, — that  he  shows  in  his 
overtures.  A  want  of  subjective  power  may  have 
barred  him  from  the  pure  symphonic  utterance. 
Yet,  in  a  way,  he  did  not  descend  to  Raff's  use  of 
the  symphony,  with  the  trick  of  more  definite 
association.  He  strove  for  a  more  purely  poetic 
unity,  that  he  almost  attained  in  the  "Italian" 
Symphony.  Thus  one  might  say,  there  was  as 
much  distinction  in  his  failure  as  in  RafFs  success. 

It  seems  that  for  the  sense  of  objective  charm 
231 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

that  lies  in  place  or  story,  the  overture  is  a  most 
happy  expression,  the  symphony  is  not.  Right 
here  begins  the  difference  of"  the  two. 

The  form  of  the  symphony,  in  four  contrasted 
moods  of  intimate  connection,  grew  from  a  spon- 
taneous desire  for  self-expression.  It  must  ever 
demand  a  basic  purpose  that  binds  the  whole. 
A  national  cast  is  not  enough,  though  reinforced 
with  a  title.  That  is  just  the  wrong  kind  of 
unity  that  is  merely  external.  But  there  may 
be  all  possible  difference  between  this  plan  anil 
the  utterance  of  a  poetic  idea  of  a  foreign  land  in 
several  phases,  such  as  was  clearly  conceived  in 
the  first  two  movements  of  the  "  Italian"  Sym- 
phony. Though  a  similar  vein  may  exist  in  the 
"Scotch,"  it  is  not  palpable  to  the  point  of 
assurance. 

All  this  does  not  prevent  a  glorious  beauty. 
The  weU  or  ill  choosing  of  a  name  cannot  damn 
a  work.  We  are  concerned  here  with  the  ques- 
tion of  the  symphony,  its  typical  idea.  The 
truth  is,  music  like  this  of  Mendelssohn  gives 
new  enjoyment  to  the  listener  who  casts  off  the 
puzzling  mystery  of  the  title.  If,  instead  of 
symphony,  it  be  frankly  called  "  Impressions  of 
Scotland,"  the  mind  would  be  far  more  open  to 
232 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

its  enrapturing  beauty.  A  title  ought  ever  to  be 
an  under-  rather  than  an  overstatement  of  the 
aim.  Its  true  function  is  a  suggestion  of  the 
expressed  intention,  not  a  shadowy  ideal  which 
the  poet  vainly  seeks.  Indeed,  the  separate  parts 
of  the  "  Scotch"  Symphony  disclose  a  wonderful 
wealth  of  fine  thought  and  of  melodic  beauty.  It 
seems  as  though  in  their  glorious  workmanship 
they  make  up  for  a  lack  of  organic  poetic  pur- 
pose. Fine  touches  abound  of  most  delicate 
architecture.  A  clear,  sincere  process  pervades. 
Yet,  it  seems,  the  profound  idea  is  wanting  that 
binds  the  whole  in  a  convincing  epic.  With  all 
its  beauty,  the  work  shows  very  well  what  is  not 
a  real  symphony.  The  unity  is  external, — a 
national  quality  of  tune.  This  unity  might  exist 
equally  in  four  other  Scotch  tunes  of  varying 
pace  and  related  tone. 

But,  to  waive  a  subtle  point  of  musical  [Es- 
thetics, from  a  lower  point  of  view  the 
"Scotch"  Symphony,  if  it  be  descriptive,  is  so 
in  the  deepest  and  broadest  sense.  It  is  born 
of  the  same  thought  as  the  Hebrides  Overture, 
of  the  mind  that  reflects  with  new  beauty  outer 
impressions.  After  all,  pictures  need  no  illus- 
trating. There  is  no  subtle  plan  to  search  for. 
233 


MENDELSSOHN   AND  RAFF 

Here  they  are,  all   charming  melodies   in   the 
Scotch  humor. 

Beginning  quietly  thoughtful  in  the  introduc- 
tion, gradually  gathering  motion,  rising  to  some 
bold  height  and  descending  again  gently,  here  is 
a  little  overture  of  the  national  drama.  In  the 
solemn  flow  of  the  introductory  melody 

WOODWIND,  HORNS  AND  VIOLAS, 
Andante  con  moto. 


there  is  a  foreshadowing  of  the  sprightly  Allegro 
theme.  It  has  the  sombre  merriment  of  the 
North.  Treated  with  Mendelssohn's  own  grace 
and  power  of  light  touches,  it  rushes  into  a 
dramatic,  stormy  episode. 

So  the  romantic  and  warlike  elements  are  con- 
trasted. But  the  statement  of  themes  is  so  little 
of  the  work  of  Mendelssohn ;  it  is  the  mere  sug- 
gestion of  what  he  is  to  sing  of.  You  must  listen 
to  the  tune  in  the  bass  ;  in  thirds  ;  or  to  the  an- 
swer, singing  at  the  same  time  in  responsive 

234 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 


alternation.  We  are  always  in  the  strife  and 
structure  of  many  voices.  Accompanied  tune  is 
not  enough. 

From  the  storm  of  this  episode  comes  the  lull 
of  first  theme    in    minor,  beautifully   answered 

STRINGS.  (Melody  doubled  below  in  clarinets.) 
-"'  Allegro  un  poco  agitato. 


(See  page  234,  line  9.) 

above,  as  it  still  flows  along,  making  one  con- 
tinuous duet  between  viola  and  clarinet,  working 
on  to  still  newer  melody  in  the  major.  Then 
the  song  is  taken  up  in  other  instruments.  With 
all  the  complexity  of  the  climax  there  is  perfect 
235 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

clearness  if  the  themes  are  heard.  They  are 
simple  as  any  folk-song.  Indeed,  they  are  pure 
Scottish  tunes,  though  made  by  a  German.  In 
Mendelssohn  there  is  none  of  modern  lack  of 


(Full  orchestra,  with  higher  8ves.) 
i  animato. 


(See  page  234,  line  12.) 

clear  melody  nor  of  turgid  vehemence  of  treat- 
ment. 

There  is  a  kinship  between  German  fancy  and 
Scotch.  Some  Scotch  stories  are  best  told  by 
Germans.*  Both  nations  have  a  feeling  for  the 

*  See  Hauff's  "  Marchen." 
236 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

romance  of  rough  scene  and  dread  danger.  There 
is  a  sign  of  it  in  the  hollow  fifths  of  the  wood, 
which  begin  the  story  of  the  Allegro,  after  the 
tune-roles  have  appeared.  They  are  held  while 
the  little  motive 


goes  on  its  stormy  course,  rising  oft  to  higher 
tempest,  quieting  suddenly  into  the  phase  of  pure 
song,  but  a  song  of  many,  grouped  as  by  painter 
in  fore-  and  background, — figures  that  seem  in- 
dependent in  their  harmony.  We  have  the  main 
tune  in  the  cellos,  little  phrases  in  the  first  violins, 
and  a  flowing  answer  in  the  woodwind.  Then 
they  exchange  parts.  All  this  discussion  is  one 
glorious  trio,  crowned  by  a  fervid  burst  of  wild 
passion.  It  is  Scotch  in  a  profound  and  com- 
plete sense  :  in  this  savage  vehemence,  in  the  lyric 
quaintness,  in  the  feeling  of  stern  old  ballad. 
This  latter  strikes  us  most  in  a  long  strain,  low 
in  the  cellos.  And  thus  we  return  to  the  origi- 
nal order  of  themes,  with  newer  complexity  of 
all  the  clans  piping  together,  now  with  clash  of 
furious  storm,  long  continued,  then  gliding  gently 
through  the  original  Andante  melody  directly  into 
237 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

the  Vivace^  a  real  Scherzo.  This  is  clearest  of  all, 
evidently  a  romping  clog,  with  pipe  and  bag.  It 
is  the  most  Scottish,  too : 

Vivace  non  troppo. 


(Clarinet,  with  strings  lightly  trembling  in  the  harmony.) 

How  did  the  German  poet  ever  catch  this 
broad  Celtic  fun?  There  is  a  big  to  do  and  a 
maze  of  singing  parts.  But  all  is  a  jolly  revel ; 
the  frowns  are  melted  into  a  broad  smile.  One 
dainty  verse  is  in  brightest  contrast.  As  the 
strings  skip  in  lightest  step  : 

STRINGS. 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

the  wood  are  chirping  a  little  answering  rondel  of 
their  own.  At  times  there  is  mere  dance-rhythm 
without  tune.  But  there  is  a  full  discussion 
of  the  humorous  strains,  with  all  their  ins  and 
outs.  The  perfect  reflection  of  Celtic  and  Eng- 
lish humor,  now  in  its  lightness,  now  in  its  very 
plainness,  is  itself  a  touch  of  genius.  There  are 
many  narrow  escapes  from  a  broad,  German, 
conclusive  strain. 

There  is  none,  however,  in  the  main  melody 
of  the  Adagio.  We  can  simply  see  that  it  is 
beautifully  pathetic  and  large  enough  to  include 
Celt  and  Teuton  alike.  But  the  second  strain, 
in  funeral  march  rhythm,  has  much  of  the  grim 
terror  of  the  North.  The  treatment  is  purely 
lyric,  a  song  in  varying  verses. 

The  Finale,  allegro  vivacissimo,  is  a  broad,  joy- 
ous chant,  tempered  with  a  minor  tinge.  The 
first  melody,  in  triumphant  march,  is  a  sort  of  new 

(Melody  in  strings.) 
Allegro  vivacissimo. 


MENDELSSOHN   AND  RAFF 


:= 4=1=4= 

p  to p 

i  ~ =    F         I     = 


*_ 


"  The  Campbells  are  Coming."  Always  firm  in 
this  feeling,  it  is  never  tempestuous.  There  is 
a  strong  contrasting  theme,  in  full  orchestra, 


(Greatly  reinforced  in  the  whole  orchestra.) 


lacking  the  trip  of  the  first.  But  ever  comes  the 
tread  of  nearing  armies.  Suddenly  there  is  a  bit 
of  Celtic  pathos  that  has  outwardly  no  place  in 
a  patriotic  piece : 


OBOES  AND  CLARIVETS. 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

Breaking  in  as  it  does,  it  is  just  the  mark  of uncon- 
scious  poet,  and  a  type  of  the  unconscious  strength 
of  music.  In  a  wonderful  way  it  strengthens  the 
spirit  of  the  national  march.  Though  there  is 
much  of  fugal  depth,  the  simplicity  of  melodies, 
together  with  the  power  of  Mendelssohn,  rare 
nowadays,  of  refined  thoroughness  of  detail, 
makes  a  clear  picture  of  the  whole.  The  conclu- 
sion breaks  from  the  pervading  key  into  benigner 
major,  like  the  fugues  of  Bach,  with  the  feeling 
of  assured  serenity.  It  has  a  clear  trace  of  a 
subjective  strain,  of  a  wider  poetic  view. 


RAFF'S  SYMPHONY  «/J/  WALDE" 

WE  have  shown  how  Raff's  genius  lies  hap* 
pily  within  the  extremes  of  programme  music ; 
how  he  may  be  said  to  have  solved  its  prob- 
lems successfully  as  to  symphonies,  achieving 
here  what  Mendelssohn  reached  only  in  the 
overture.  Indeed,  without  the  symphonies  of 
Raff,  it  might  be  held,  for  lack  of  supporting 
examples,  that  the  true  symphony  cannot  be 

'6  241 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

burdened  with  a  special  title.  More  happily  than 
Beethoven  in  his  Sixth  Symphony,  Raff  found 
the  right  relation  of  subject  and  utterance  in  the 
main  by  a  predominance  of  the  mood  over 
mere  description.  The  graphic  aim  was  not 
pre-eminent,  merely  the  suggestive.  The  two 
may  approach  each  other  so  near  as  to  be  well- 
nigh  indistinguishable.  But  the  right  attitude  of 
the  composer  is  clear,  can  never  be  actual  de- 
lineation, but  merely  an  utterance  of  the  feelings 
aroused  by  the  subject,  whatever  it  be.  As 
in  negative  and  positive  of  a  picture,  there 
may  be  the  closest  correspondence  of  mood  and 
of  event,  even  in  detail.  And  yet  a  true  musi- 
cal poem  is  never  more  than  an  utterance  of 
feeling. 

The  division  of  the  symphony  is  novel ;  there 
are  three  parts,  of  which  the  first,  in  Allegro,  is 
entitled  "  Daytime,  Thoughts  and  Impressions  ;" 
the  second,  "  At  Dusk,"  comprises  first  a  "  Rev- 
ery,"  second,  "  Dance  of  the  Dryads ;"  the  third, 
all  in  one  movement,  is  headed  "At  Night. 
Quiet  Reign  of  Night  in  the  Forest.  Coming 
and  Going  of  the  \Vild  Hunt  with  Frau  Holle 
(Hulda)  and  Wotan.  Break  of  Day." 

The    poetic    design    fits    perfectly   with    the 
242 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

traditional  order  of  symphonic  movement  and 
rhythm,  and  this  harmony  is  a  symbol  of  the  fine 
touch  with  which  Raff  uttered  his  special  sense 
of  nature,  of  the  great  outer  elements  of  life. 
His  tonal  schemes,  with  all  their  novel  warmth 
of  color  and  harmony  and  their  objective  realism, 
do  not  fail  of  a  masterly  grasp  of  the  art  in  its 
highest  reaches,  of  profound  polyphony  and  of 
complete  breadth  of  formal  design.  Indeed, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  some  of  the  melodic,  har- 
monic, and  chromatic  manner  that  is  all  attrib- 
uted to  Wagner  is  quite  distinctively  Raff's  own  ; 
that  with  him  it  is  allied  with  a  true  mastery  of 
the  art,  independent  of  dramatic  illustration ; 
that  it  is  the  sensational  quality  of  Wagner's 
style,  his  constant  reiteration  of  the  same  idea  on 
the  largest  dramatic  scale  (lacking  the  economy 
of  highest  art),  helped,  too,  by  the  attraction 
of  visible  story,  that  has  stamped  his  name  unduly 
upon  much  of  modern  musical  discovery,  of 
which  he  was  not  the  only  pioneer.  This  sym- 
phony of  Raff  was  finished  seven  years  before  the 
first  hearing  of  the  Nibelungen  Cycle. 

Daytime  is,  after  all,  the  prelude  of  the  real 
life  of  the  forest.    The  climax  is  night,  of  which 
the  day  is  the  mere  dusk. 
243 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

The  first  notes  of  the  forest  are  a  deep,  sombre 
humming  of  low  basses  (in  wood  and  strings), 
through  which,  at  intervals,  resounds  the  cry  of 
the  horn  : 

HORN. 


one  of  the  chief  elements  of  this  bit  of  complex 
beauty.  Presently  appears  the  second,  where  the 
basses  find  a  tune  in  their  dim  groping  : 


CELLOS  AND  BASSES. 


And  then,  third,  the   moving  answer  of  higher 
strings,  the  motto  of  the  forest : 


In   lighter  pace  the  high  woodwind  join,  the 
phrase  of  the  basses  grows  to  a  fuller  melody, 
244 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

into  which  all  the  woodwind  and  horns  enter  in 
chorus.  The  low  brass  are  first  heard,  on  a 
sudden  hush,  in  a  new  harmonic  light,  preceding 
another  burst  of  the  melody  of  the  basses.  In  the 
silence  of  the  rest,  the  strings  sing  softly  and  ten- 
derly their  former  strain,  in  lower  key,  so  that  all 
the  first  seemed  but  a  prelude  to  this,  the  heart  of 
the  movement,  the  sighing  legend  of  the  woods. 
The  song  is  extended  by  a  new  verse  sung  in  close 
rejoinder,  the  woodwind  taking  part.  Presently 
the  horns,  sacred  to  the  forest,  take  up  the  song, 
joined  by  the  higher  strings.  The  cadence  has 
sudden  brighter  gleams  of  cheer  as  the  last  of  the 
themal  elements  sounds  in  this  epic  of  day  in 
the  forest.  At  the  very  close  it  steals  in  (among 
bassoons)  so  subtly  as  to  be  easily  lost : 

BASSOONS. 


It  stands  a  lighter  symbol  of  the  sparkling  joy, 
the  sunlight  of  the  forest,  clear  of  the  dread 
and  danger,  and  quaintly  lifts  the  whole  mood 
at  the  very  end  of  the  beautifully  sad  song, 
which  is  the  principal  theme  of  the  woods. 
Though  a  mere  phrase  in  a  close,  it  flows  along 
245 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

in  the  constant  cycle  of  its  return,  new  voices 
ever  joining, — growing  to  a  whole  song  of 
praise  into  which  the  full  band  have  at  last  been 
enticed.  The  motive  has  extended  here  and 
there,  and  now  has  almost  the  symmetry  of 
full-blown  melody.  But  the  source,  the  tissue, 
is  always  the  simple,  sprightly,  rollicking  phrase. 
In  its  very  last  note,  as  it  has  simmered  down 
to  bassoons  and  lowest  strings,  is  an  interval 
of  the  fourth  by  pure  chance,  the  first  cry  that 
we  heard  from  the  horns.  Innocently  the  bas- 
soon has  awakened  the  sombrer  horn  to  its 
old  motto,  which  it  now  sounds  again  and 
again,  while  lowest  basses  are  rumbling  away 
through  most  solemn  changes,  at  each  step,  of 
tonal  hue,  like  huge  kaleidoscope  of  deepest 
colors.  The  depth,  the  changing  shades,  the  dim 
uncertainty  of  the  forest  are  there. 

For  a  moment  lighter  sprites  interrupt  with  a 
tune  that  seems  new,  but  is  merely  a  friendlier 
verse  of  the  old  theme  of  the  basses, — singing  for 
cheer,  while  the  dragons  growl  almost  within 
sound. 

And  now  we  have  the  whole  life  of  the  forest, 
ever  in  blending  of  these  moods,  where  dim  dread 
is  never  quite  absent.  A  lighter  motion  soon 
246 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

begins  and  pervades  until  near  the  end.  But  it 
is  the  motion,  not  of  birds  and  humming  bees, 
rather  of  gnomes  and  fearsome  elves.  Much 
of  their  doing  is  of  a  strain  of  the  song  of  the 
basses': 


(Strings  and  wood  with  pizz.  Basses  and  Violas.) 


with  a  dancing  kind  of  step  or  skip  in  the  high 
wind.  Presently  comes  a  wailing  cry  from  on 
high,  which  we  hardly  know  as  the  beautiful 
legend  of  the  strings,  so  distorted  is  the  expres- 
sion, so  changed  to  a  touch  of  anguish. 

But  now,  with  all  the  light  dancing  figures 
about,  sounds  a  comforting  bit  of  the  rollicking 
strain,  though  it  is  not  enough  for  the  old  joviality. 
All  through  flit  shadowy  figures  of  lightest  mo- 
tion, but  uncertain  of  mood ;  a  kind  of  secret 
hovering  between  the  beauty  and  the  terror. 
Nothing  is  quite  clear ;  all  the  former  melodies, 
of  quiet  beauty  and  cheer,  are  perverted ;  now 
247 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

two  are  singing  together,  distorted  in  form  and 
feeling.  Wilder  grows  the  mad  whirl,  louder 
the  chorus  of  all,  when  at  the  very  top  of  the 
climax  sounds  the  friendly  song  of  the  basses, 
now  noisy  with  glad  acclaim,  where  all  are  sing- 
ing not  in  unison,  but  each  with  a  different  end 
of  the  tune, — later  joining  in  a  simpler,  united 
hymn  of  a  kind  of  deliverance. 

Here  we  are  in  the  same  chorus  which  the 
basses  had  first  enticed  on  their  original  melody, 
and  now  follows  the  same  career  of  lesser  strains, 
of  the  principal  legend,  of  the  rollicking  phrase 
with  its  climax.  Again  comes  the  changing 
hue  of  low  bass  sounds,  with  the  horn  call  above. 
There  is  still  a  lesser  phase  of  uncertain  humor  ; 
but  the  distorted  melodies  are  absent.  There  is 
a  sense  of  coming  cheer,  and  soon  the  song  ot 
the  basses  bursts  forth  with  utmost  brightness  in 
final  climax  of  the  rollicking  phrase.  At  the 
very  end  is  once  again  the  solemn  call  of  the 
horn  through  the  changing  choir  of  lowest 
sounds. 

At  Dusk.     Revery.     In  the  cool  air  of  evening, 

in    uncertain    light,    the    strings  grope    through 

searching  tones,  the  clarinet  trills  a  strain  seeking 

a  clear  utterance.     Presently  the  strings  (aided 

248 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

by  bassoons)  fall  into  a  melody  of  great  beauty 
and  pathos : 


STRINGS  AND  BASSOON. 


which  is  really  the  burden  of  the  whole,  in  pure 
lyric  vein.  Between  the  verses  the  clarinet  sends 
forth  its  vaguer  rhapsodies,  much  as  a  bird, 
stirred  to  carolling  by  song,  vainly  tries  to  echo 
the  melody.  Other  voices,  flute  and  oboe,  join  in 
answering  snatches.  And  now  the  horns  send  out 
the  golden  notes  of  the  tune,  while  the  flute, 
instead  of  listening,  continues  its  carolling  in 
sweet  accord. 

In  the  midst  is  a  madrigal  of  forest  voices, 
started  by  the  first  strain  of  the  main  melody. 
But  in  the  graceful  interweaving  (with  new  color 
of  tonal  hue)  there  is  missing  the  human  note 
which  comes  with  new  force  in  the  final  verses 
of  the  melody. 

The  Dance  of  the  Dryads,  still  in  the  twilight, 
249 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

tells  its  own  story,  unless  we  refuse  to  take  the 
title  with  literal  fidelity.  The  dryads  cannot  be 
a  very  distant  kin  to  the  fairies,  who  seem  more 
at  home  in  the  northern  forest.  They  are  crea- 
tures of  the  same  kind  of  humor ;  indeed,  their 
humor  is  the  best  of  them.  But  these  dryads  or 
elves  have  a  way  of  varying  their  guise  in  the 
midst  of  the  dance.  The  fairies  of  the  first 
tune  are  more  impish  : 


Allegro  assai.  FLUTES. 


in  the  slower  second  they  are  almost  human. 
At  the  end  the  poet  has  the  lyric  mood  of  the 


250 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

revery  blended  with  the  humor  of  the  fairies, 
whose  dance  hovers  about  the  song  of  the  Largo 
in  the  strings. 

The  Wild   Hunt  of  the  raging   host  —  das 

Poco  meno  mosso.  FLUTES. 


>        (Waving  strings  in  i  notes  :  horns.) 


^MAMJU 


TTT 


£3 


(See  page  250,  line  jo. ) 

Wutende  Heer — of  Wotan  and  Frau  Holle  belongs 
to  the  ruder  world  of  German  folk-tales  rather  than 
to  storied  legend.  In  oldest  saying  Frau  Holle 
lived  in  high  mountains,  in  lakes  or  in  the  sky,  and 

was  good  to  mortals,  as  her  name  Hulda  shows. 
251 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

Indeed,  she  probably  had  a  mistier  past  as  Erda, 
or  Mother  Earth  herself.  She  was  even  later  ever 
a  motherly  sort  of  goddess.  She  certainly  made 
the  snow  when  she  shook  the  feathers  of  her  bed. 
Says  Grimm,  she  is  cross  "  only  when  she  sees 
discord  in  the  household."  The  home,  spinning, 
marriage  were  her  special  interest ;  but,  like  Diana, 
she  had  a  hand  in  the  chase  as  well.  In  the 
strange  tale  of  the  raging  host  we  see  Fra u  Holle 
in  a  later  time,  when  Christian  cult  was  degrading 
heathen  creed  before  killing  it.  The  good  dame 
never  became  savage  and  ugly — she  was  once 
white  and  fair — until  the  Christians  came  and 
displaced  her  with  Mary.  It  was  the  natural  way 
that  the  very  kindest  of  the  gods — strongest  in 
the  people's  heart — must  be  specially  attacked. 
So  gradually  Wotan  and  Hulda  sank  to  a  sort  of 
devil  and  his  grandmother.  They  had  a  quaint 
kind  of  place,  too,  in  the  Christian  world.  The 
gods  die  hard  ;  they  do  not  vanish  in  a  day.  For 
a  time  they  are  doomed,  like  a  conquered  race,  to 
a  nether  sphere  of  evil  spirits ;  and  they  were,  in 
a  way,  not  without  their  use.  To  Wotan  were 
sent  the  spirits  of  men  who  had  died  of  violence, 
and  Frau  Holle  was  given  charge  of  the  babes 

that   died   unbaptized.     And   thus   the   mighty 
252 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

march  of  worthy  gods  and  heroes  became  the 
wild  hunt  of  the  wasting  host  of  lost  souls  and 
devils. 

A  whole  of  the  three  divisions  is  of  Night,  the 
real  element  of  the  forest  ;  or  perhaps  the  forest 
is  her  home.  Day,  after  all,  the  clear  sun,  never 
really  reaches  it.  The  darker  the  night  the 
deeper  the  forest,  —  which  is  equally  true  reversed  ; 
and  so  the  darkest  depth  of  the  forest  must  be  at 
midnight. 

In  the  "  Stilles  JVeberi"  of  the  title  is  a  clue 
that  seems  obstinately  to  refuse  utterance  other 
than  in  its  native  figure.  It  means  a  fulness  of 
life  and  motion  with  the  least  of  sound.  And 
so  Raff  takes  a  theme  from  his  magic  bag  of 
tunes,  that  fits  this  humming  woof  of  night  in 
the  forest,  tingling  with  the  pulsing  throb  that  is 
busiest  when  most  still  : 

Allegro. 
PP   C--- 


CELLOS  AND  BASSES. 

Raff's  fugal  themes  are  rare,  almost  unique  in 

being   melodies.     And  so  the  course  of  these 

gently  murmuring  voices  on  one  tuneful  motive 

is  a  most  poetical  utterance  of  the  busy  sway  of 

253 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

night  in  the  woods,  as  true  whether  we  read  as 
child  or  naturalist.  Above  the  strings  presently 
sings  the  horn  (the  new  voice  stealing  in  ever 
before  it  is  expected),  and,  too,  the  bassoon  in 
softest  humming. 

Then  a  new  throb  is  felt  in  steady  ascent,  while 
horns  are  sounding  a  distant  rhythmic  call.  Now 
the  approach  of  the  wild  hunt  of  the  gods  is  clear 
with  the  new  pace  of  galloping  steeds : 


mf 


—=  '   1 


STRINGS,  CLARINETS  AND  WOOD. 

rising  higher  and  louder  as  it  nears.  Suddenly 
the  band  is  upon  us,  the  thud  of  the  hoofs 
ringing  all  about.  And  now  a  more  measured 
hunting  chorus  breaks  out  in  the  strings  with 
supporting  brass,  only  to  return,  later,  to  ruder 
clangor  alternating  with  the  hunting  chorus  song. 
Now  comes  the  maddest  whirl  of  clash  and 
din,  where  the  one  thing  clear  is  the  unceasing 
thud  of  clattering  hoofs,  though,  at  times,  strains 
of  the  (second)  hunting  chorus  are  heard.  But 
254 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 


presently  even  that  is  distorted  out  of  all  guise." 

(Full  brass  and  strings.)    . 


2=£ 


(See  page  254,  line  13.) 

The    answering    cries    of  the    horns    ring   ever 


&&  ft  ft= 

J   ^ 

fi>_k  3  fe  3  ^_ 

(Reinforced  with  full  harmony 

f  \                 •     k*               *       P 

of  whole  orchestra. 

V 


n 


(Seepage  254,  line  15.) 

higher;    but   all   is  disorder,  with  no  sign   of 


255 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

common  (tonal)  plan.  A  vague  sort  of  march 
time  seems  patched  from  shadowy  snatches  of 
the  hunting  songs.  Suddenly  out  of  the  worst 
of  the  din  a  clear  strain  pours  forth,  joyous 
and  festive,  without  the  terror,  the  brute  noise, 
sweetened  and  lightened,  without  loss  of  pace 
or  freedom  : 


(Woodwind,  doubled  above,  and  horns.) 


And  still  one  melody  sings  out  of  the  night,  most 
human  of  all,  but  is  presently  lost  in  the  renewed 
turmoil  of  wildest  hunt.  At  one  time  when 
the  sounds,  uncertain  still,  have  hushed  for  the 
256 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

moment,  the  first  motto  of  the  night  can  be  heard 
dimly  struggling  through  the  incongruous  ele- 
ments. Through  the  cycle  of  all  the  strains  the 
wild  course  continues,  but  reversed,  so  that  when 


(Woodwind  with  tremolo  strings.) 
(Sec  page  256,  line  9.) 

the  last  hoof  has  died  away,  the  Waldesweben  is 
heard  in  its  original  stillness.  At  the  end,  in 
climax  of  the  whole  symphony,  the  united 
chorus  returns,  with  break  of  day,  to  the  legend 
of  the  first  movement. 


THE  "LENORE"  SYMPHONY 
THE  complete  title-page  is: 

FIRST  PART THE  JOY  OF  LOVE. 

Allegro  ;  Andante  quasi  Largbetto. 
17  257 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

SECOND  PART SEPARATION. 

March  ;   dgitato. 

THIRD  PART     .     .    f     .    REUNION  IN  DEATH. 
Introduction  and  Ballad  (after  Burger's  ««  Lenore"). 

Allegro. 

One  of  the  greatest  flowers  of  the  species 
"  programme  music," — so  ingeniously  misunder- 
stood,— the  "  Lenore"  Symphony  needs,  for  in- 
telligent enjoyment,  a  knowledge  of  the  romantic 
legend  of  Burger's  poem  and  of  the  divisions  of 
the  composer's  plan. 

But  "programme  music"  is  like  dangerous 
medicine.  There  ought  always  to  be  an  accom- 
panying warning,  much  like  Beethoven's  in  the 
Pastoral  Symphony — "rather  an  expression  of 
feeling  than  a  painting."  So,  to  the  "  Lenore" 
listener  we  would  say:  Don't  find  the  literal 
touches  of  the  ghostly  ride  of  the  bride  and  spec- 
tral groom.  Don't  find  the 

"  Tramp  !  tramp  !  along  the  land  they  rode, 
Splash  !  splash  !  along  the  sea," 

nor   seek   the  "  coffin 'd  guest,"  bidden  to  swell 
the  nuptial  song, — when  "the  shrouded  corpse 

arose," 

258 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

' '  And  hurry !  hurry !  all  the  train 

The  thundering  steed  pursues," — 

nor  where  the  felon 

"Swings  'mid  whistling  rain, — 
The  wasted  form  descends — 
The  wild  career  attends." 

Nothing  is  clearer  than  the  composer's  inten- 
tion :  to  express  the  feelings  kindled  in  the  story 
in  the  free  manner  proper  to  the  tonal  art,  un- 
hampered by  the  detail  of  narrative.  The  sim- 
plest way  to  enjoy  the  symphony  is  to  read 
Burger's  poem  or  Scott's  version  :  then  to  resign 
oneself  untrammelled  to  the  musical  treatment. 

Three  of  the  four  movements  are  mere  pre- 
lude to  the  story  of  the  poem,  but  they  are  far 
the  most  important  part  of  the  symphony.  The 
lovers'  early  happiness  shines  in  the  opening 
theme : 


( Bass  an  8ve   lower. ) 
259 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 


(Added  woodwind  and  horns.) 


bubbling  with  joy,  breaking  into  the  placid  pure 
delight  of  the  answering  melody : 


WOOD. 


STRINGS. 


pizz.    STRINGS. 

The  shadow  of  a  sigh  in  the  strings 

STRINGS.  „ I  J 


260 


MENDELSSOHN   AND  RAFF 


is  hushed  by  a  laugh  in  the  wood  : 


CLARINETS,     dolcissimo. 


Furred' 


^ 


^ 


(Accompanying  strings  ppp;  bass  an  Sve   lower.) 


Thus  passes  the  opening  Allegro^  while  the 
261 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 


Andante  seems  but  a  more  complete  deepening 
of  a  perfect  bliss  : 


Andante  quasi  larghetto. 
I 


STRINGS, 


Indeed,  there  is  nowhere  out  of  the  range  of 
songs,  in  pure  tones,  so  loftily  poetic  an  utterance 
of  love's  happiness. 

It  is  Raff's  freedom  from  an  over-sensuous 
taint,  of "  emotional"  fury  (where  feeling  is  falsely 
measured  by  the  mere  violence  of  passion),  that 
has  for  the  time  obscured  his  music ;  it  is  the 
same  trait  that  will  bring  it  the  more  lasting 
place. 

In  the  flow  of  melodies,  with  their  general 
whim  of  interference  and  interruption,  the  first  is 
full  of  a  quiet,  almost  fearful  ecstasy  that  slowly 
plays  into  the  strong  assurance,  in  the  second,  of 
absolute  content. 

Separation  comes  first  restrained  by  a  patriotic, 
262 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

warlike   mood.     Nothing  betokens  sadness,  un- 
less  it   be  the  grave  cast  of  the  whole  march. 

(Strings,  with  clarinets  and  flutes.) 


_L_J5J« 


|EZ                      *  *  * 

*f  r-r 
j***  -* 

r>  ,  ^ 

±444       - 

i    i    & 

(  Sec  page  262,  line  16.) 

But  suddenly,  out  of  the  close  ranks,  the  spirit 
breaks  into  tumultuous  rebellion,  from  which, 
after  a  sombre  calm,  it  rejoins  the  war-march. 

While  hitherto  all  is  of  the  clearest,  the  Finale 
is,  by  the  nature  of  its  text,  restless,  undefined, 
263 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

uncertain.     There    is    no    distinct    melody   or 


In  march  time. 
Pizzicati  STRINGS  AND  CLARINET. 


(See  page  263,  line  a.) 


STRINGS   (the  harmony  slightly  reinforced  in  the  wind). 
(See  page  263,  line  4.) 

thought,  save  reminiscences  of  former  ones,  and 

these  are  all  distorted  into  a  hopeless  wail.     The 

264 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

wild  pace  of  the  basses  knows  no  rest  until,  at 

last, 

'«  Her  soul  is  from  her  body  reft  ; 
Her  spirit  be  forgiven. ' ' 

The  soothing  chorale  ends  the  poem. 

It  is,  perhaps,  just  to  say  that  other  interpreta- 
tions have  been  current  and  even  dominant. 
Many  insist  on  finding  in  the  third  movement  an 
approach  of  the  army ;  in  the  Agitato  a  duet  of 
the  lovers  (in  the  violins  and  cellos),  Lenore 
pleading,  Wilhelm  resisting  and  finally  joining 
the  soldiers. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  temptation  is  of  the 
strongest,  in  the  last  movement,  to  find  the  actual 
incidents  of  the  ride,  funereal  and  nuptial  in  one. 
Nor  is  it  well  to  cling  blindly  even  to  the  best 
theory.  At  times  it  seems  most  clear  to  hear  the 
whole  story  from  the  moment  when  to  Lenore, 
despairing  of  her  lover's  return  from  the  war, 


' ' slowly  on  the  winding  stair 

A  heavy  footstep  sounded  ;" 

how  he  bids  her  ride  with  him 

"  O'er  stock  and  stile,  a  hundred  miles — • 
Before  the  matin  bells  ; 
265 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

then  the  events  of  the  furious  ride,  as  the  spectral 
guests  join  the  nuptial  throng,  until 

"  Sudden  at  an  open  grave 

He  checked  the  wondrous  course. 

••  The  falling  gauntlet  quits  the  rein, 

Down  drops  the  casque  of  steel, 
The  cuirass  leaves  his  shrinking  side, 
The  spur  his  gory  heel. 

"  The  eyes  desert  the  naked  skull, 

The  mould' ring  flesh  the  bone  ; 
Lenore's  lily  arms  entwine 
A  ghastly  skeleton. 

"  The  furious  barb  snorts  fire  and  foam 

And,  with  a  fearful  bound, 
Dissolves  at  once  in  empty  air 
And  leaves  her  on  the  ground." 

The  strongest  reason  for  the  descriptive  inter- 
pretation lies  in  the  whole  cast  ot  the  Finale ;  the 
reckless,  ruthless  discord  of  shrieking  wood  and 
clanging  brass.  In  lieu  of  a  musical  reason  it 
does  seem  natural  to  turn  to  a  dramatic  one. 

The  truth  is  that  in  a  special  subject  like 
**  Lenore,"  with  its  rapid  chase  of  startling  events, 
the  line  must  be  narrow  between  objective  de- 
scription and  subjective  utterance.  Raff  may 
have  crossed  it  in  momentary  violence  to  artistic 
266 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

possibilities.  When  feeling  is  thus  at  the  mercy 
of  legend,  emotional  expression  must  bear  strong 
resemblance  to  actual  description  ;  it  will  be  a 
kind  of  negative  of  the  picture. 

But  where  there  are  two  possible  interpretations, 
the  true  lover  of  music  will  choose  the  one  which 
lies  within  the  natural  sphere  of  the  art. 


"WINTER"   SYMPHONY 

ALLEGRO.  "  The  First  Snow."  Convincing, 
and  it  seems  classic  pieces  of  programme  music 
are  Raff's  symphonies.  It  may  be  set  down  as 
generally  admitted  that  they  are  not  descriptive. 
They  help  in  their  own  way  to  settle  the  nice 
boundaries  qf  entitled  music.  What  Raff  him- 
self intended  (or  thought  he  intended)  is  hardly 
relevant ;  it  is  certainly  not  conclusive.  For  if  we 
agree  that  the  power  of  music  comes  from  its  utter- 
ance of  the  unconscious  intent,  the  deliberate  pur- 
pose of  the  composer  is  just  what  we  do  not  care  to 
know.  When  we  consider  that  all  our  perceptions 
are  subjective,  surely  art,  in  its  permanent  expres- 
sion of  them,  ought  to  have  that  attitude, — above 

all,  that  particular  art  whose  medium  is  invisible. 

267 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

The  first  division  of  our  symphony  is  fragrant 
with  the  breath  of  early  winter,  with  its  blended 
tremor  and  delight.  If  we  cannot  see  in  every 
phrase  a  definite  symbol,  or  even  a  relevance  to 
the  subject,  we  can  always  be  content  with  the 
abounding  beauty  itself.  We  cannot  quite  be- 
lieve that  an  interlinear  interpretation  is,  some- 
how, really  essential  to  the  true  enjoyment. 
The  feeling  of  winter  is  there  throughout,  how- 
ever indefinable  in  words. 

Against  hollow  octaves  of  oboes  sounds  the 
frigid,  unhoused  theme  of  the  fagots : 


Allegro.    OBOES. 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

answered  by  a  shrinking  murmur  of  strings. 
This  duet  introduces  the  prettily  dreary  song  of 
the  main  melody,  first  in  the  flutes,  with  graceful 
trip  of  accompanying  strings  : 

FLUTES  AND  OBOES. 
Espressivo. 


«.       X 


W   x 


Though  lightly  tinged  with  sadness,  it  has  a 
strongly  human,  almost  domestic  quality,  which 
is  rudely  shocked  by  the  interrupting  strains  of 
the  first  phrase,  figures  of  hostile  nature  without, 
ever  answered  by  the  fearful  cry  of  strings,  suc- 
ceeded again  by  the  placid  song.  Other  graphic 
touches  of  the  unfriendly  season  are  ever  break- 
269 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

ing  into  fragments  of  the  melody,  chiefly  a  run- 
ning phrase  in  the  clarinet,  with  picking  strings 
and  chirping  flutes.  During  one  of  the  strains  of 
the  main  subject  there  sound,  deep  in  the  basses, 
rough,  hammering  blows,  rasping  against  the 
other  harmony,  growing  louder  and  fiercer : 


BASSES  ix  STRINGS. 


Presently,  with  unlessened  noise,  they  some- 
how merge  into  lines  of  agreement,  and  then, 
with  full  chonis  of  each  lusty  voice,  rings  out 
from  the  very  din  of  the  blows  a  glorious,  fervid 
song  that  draws  all  man  and  nature  into  its  ranks. 

If  we  had  to  say  something  wise  about  mean- 
ing (which  in  music  is  as  bad  as  the  moral  of 
stories),  we  should  guess,  say,  this.  First  come 
rough  blasts  of  the  storm,  driving  man  and  beast 
in  terror  to  their  lairs.  Then,  presently,  man  is 
270 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 


seized  by  the  very  spirit  of  the  winter ;  dauntless 
he  revels  in  the  snow  ;  fear  itself  is  turned  to  fan 
and  frolic.  But  the  stirring  song,  like  day,  must 
end.  The  frosty  first  theme  comes  moaning 
again,  and  the  strings  hum  in  sad  harmony.  We 
must  never  tie  ourselves  to  any  story  which  links 
our  labels  of  successive  phrases.  Otherwise  we 


(Tutti  with  drums.) 

1      i  . 


(See  page  270,  line  II. 


quickly  lose  the  guiding  hand  of  the  poet, 
blinded  by  our  own  sense  of  a  preconceived 
path. 

A  gloomier  hue  is  cast,  of  darkening  shadows. 
Night  is  added  to  winter.  And  now  the  first 
melody  becomes  a  pious  chant  in  proper  fugue, 
and  loses  the  human  note.  But  the  mood  grows 
lighter  and  brighter.  There  is  more  energy  in 
the  surrounding  figures.  Soon  the  song  sounds 
271 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

in  all  its  first  fulness  of  human  feeling  and  of 
earthly  color.  Again  it  ends  with  the  chill  strains 
of  the  woodwind.  Then  among  symbolic  sounds 
of  winter  is  a  new  figure  in  the  wood,  with  hum- 
ming strings.  This  is  presently  doubled  in  pace, 
whence  it  grows  cheerily  playful,  throwing  off 
the  cold  reserve : 

OBOES  AND  CLARINET.  (Doubling  flutes.) 

^ 


(With  accompanying  strings,  Violas  in  running  obligate.) 


And  the  earlier  running  phrase  joins  in  the 
gambol,  growing  more  boisterous,  when  suddenly 
a  theme  of  mysterious  meaning  sounds  in  the 
basses.  As  it  steals  nearer,  we  greet  it  as  the 
herald  of  the  joyous  song.  More  and  more  the 
spirit  infects  the  ranks ;  all  are  summoned,  and 
then  out  bursts  again  from  full  throats  and  hearts 
the  great  chanting  praise  of  winter.  •  And  now, 
though  all  the  blasts  blow  fierce  and  cold,  they 
but  add  to  the  joy  of  the  glad  tune.  The  true 
climax  of  all  this  first  act  (of  the,  season's  drama) 
is  surely  where  the  first  melody  turns  its  sad 
minor  to  glad  major,  and,  the  fierce  winds  in 
272 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

captive  background,  crowns  all  the  strife  with 
triumphant  joy. 

Allegretto.  The  second  movement  is  the  most 
mysterious,  if  we  must  seek  for  something  more 
definite  than  the  mere  "Allegretto,"  which  the  poet 
has  written.  The  want  of  a  title  does  seem  pur- 
posed ;  and  so  it  is  almost  impertinent  to  insist  on 
finding  it  in  spite  of  the  poet's  intent.  But  it 
must  be  yielded  that  the  provision  of  title  for 
the  whole  and  for  each  of  the  other  scenes  leaves 
a  natural  craving  for  some  enlightenment  here. 

Surely  there  is  here  a  lyric  episode.  That  is, 
after  the  strife  and  energy  must  come  a  phase  of 
quiet  thought.  The  dramatic  element  has  now 
subsided.  Nothing  happens,  or  very  little.  Noth- 
ing is  done.  The  lyric  is  definite  enough ;  but 
it  is  itself, — not  translatable.  A  quaint  song  is 
here  for  winter  evenings,  perhaps  a  ballad,  a 
household  glee ;  for  the  voices  move  all  to- 
gether in  four  even  parts,  with  marked  time,  clear 
tune,  and  sharp  cadence.  This  is  evidently  the 
beginning.  We  might  imagine  some  old  Minne- 
song  set  to  the  notes.  The  tune  is  rehearsed  with 
dainty  interplay  of  two  groups  of  woodwind.  The 
melody  is  varied  with  much  delicacy,  so  that  when, 
later,  the  simple  tune  reappears,  it  seems  new. 
is  273 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 


(See  page  273,  line  ai.) 

There  is  in  the  middle  a  swelling  glide  of  strings  and 
a  whistling  of  flutes  that  is  very  like  the  howling  of 
the  wind  without, — even  if  we  must  defy  the  critics. 
An  ominous  theme  sounds  once  in  the  bass : 

>  STRINGS. 


poco  marcalo. 


274 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

Then  the  ballad  sings  in  the  minor,  with  changed 
surroundings, — no  longer  a  simple  glee,  but  a 
single  voice  with  trembling  strings,  while  others 
break  in  with  excited  refrain.  The  wind  moans 
and  whistles  most  clearly.  The  song  descends  into 
unearthly  scenes  of  tone  and  of  tale  ;  that  warning 
phrase  sounds  again  and  again  on  high,  and  in  a 
lull  of  the  storm  (in  major  hue  of  the  latest 
strain,  freed  of  its  tragic  dross)  a  hymn  is  blown 
in  the  clear  tones  of  the  trumpets.  Very  earthly 
the  first  song  now  sounds,  as  it  timidly  reappears. 
But  the  pious  air  of  the  hymn  prevails.  A 
ballad  we  are  sure  it  is,  with  cheerful  beginning 
and  terrible  haps,  ending  somehow  in  heaven. 

Larghetto.  "AmCamin"  "At  the  fireside"  saves 
us  much  thinking.  But  we  must  have  guessed  it. 
How  like  members  of  the  family  the  voices  steal 
into  the  deeply  enchanting  melody,  each  appearing 
somehow  after  joining  unobserved  in  the  circle  ! 
Each  entrance  of  new  voice  has  this  quiet  way 
of  taking  us  by  surprise.  Ratf's  melodies  have 
a  strongly  human  quality,  fragrant  of  folk  or 
legend  poetry,  and  this  is  one  of  the  most  glorious 
of  them  all.  The  whole  symphony  was  worth 
writing  alone  for  this  tune.  The  rest  of  the  move- 
ment is  clear  in  the  intent  of  the  music  and  of 
275 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

FAGOTS,  cantando. 
Larghetto. 


i r 

(See  page  275,  line  19.) 

the  meaning.  What  might  strictly  stand  for  a 
second  theme  is  a  light,  mirthful  phrase  in  the 
wood  answered  more  thoughtfully  in  the  strings. 
But  the  whole  middle  phrase  has  surely  a 
placid,  chatty  feeling :  hduslich  they  would  call  it 
in  German, — a  sort  of  domestic  idyl,  without 
strongly  romantic  heights.  When  the  first  song 
of  the  hearth  re-enters,  the  setting  is  in  a  way  re- 
versed. Before,  the  fagot  played  to  the  strain  of 
the  strings.  Now,  woodwind  and  horns  give  a 
bright  color  of  background,  whence  the  cellos 
emerge  in  solo  song,  followed  again  in  the  sur- 
prising way  of  the  beginning  by  violas,  second 
and  first  violins.  Through  a  stormy  burst  we 
wander  again  into  the  lighter  mood  of  sprightly 
276 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 


laughter  and  friendly  chat,  which  turns  by  natural 
path  of  thought  into  the  last  verse  of  the  serious 
tune. 

Allegro.    "Carnival"     There  are  many  frolics 
in  the  classics  of  music.     Indeed,  most  of  its 


WOODWIND.. 


(Viola  pizz.) 
VIOLINS. 

^ — :  i  ^T_ 
T      -«f== 

— F>5— i*ff— r 


(Cello  pizz.) 


F*=p 


(See  page  276,  line  3.) 


poetry  might  be  called  a  simple  utterance  of  pure 
exuberance  of  spirit.  And  it  is  curious  how  in 
such  phases  of  the  masters  the  greatest  art  is  some- 
how called  into  service  to  express  the  very  simplest 


277 


MENDELSSOHN    AND   RAFF 

feeling.     Indeed,  highest  art  seems  closest  akin  to 
primeval  emotion. 

Of  that  kind  is  the  Carnival  of  Raff.  But  it 
has  a  way  of  its  own  that  specially  fits  the  name  : 
something  of  the  unending  spinning  of  the  top,  the 
ceaseless  buzz  of  Mayfair,  that  adds  to  the  sub- 
jective feeling  the  graphic  touch  of  the  scene.  At 
first,  figures  are  romping  about,  more  and  more 
frequent,  to  a  figure  capable  of  a  most  wonderful 
momentum  : 


Presently  the  wood  adds  a  frivolous  air  that 
fits  the  other  at  almost  any  point ;  and  so  we 
are  dancing  away  without  fear  or  care  of  clash. 
The  dance  does  seem  to  sink  for  a  while  into 
song,  but  not  for  long.  When  the  second  tune 
comes  in : 


slacc.  STRINGS  AND  CLARINET. 


the  general  din  and  vague  bustle  seek  the  more 
regular  lines  of  a  round  dance, — that  is,  each  is 

278 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

dancing  the  figure  his  neighbor  had  a  moment 
ago,  and  there  is  a  general  maze  of  successive 
steps.  (It  makes  us  wonder  why  a  dance  could 
not  be  devised  to  such  counterpoint,  the  steps 
answering  to  the  interdependent  voices,  on  the 
principle  of  "  three  blind  mice.")  Finally  the 
dizzy  medley  ends  in  a  common  burst  of  general 
chorus.  But  a  few  are  caught  stealthily  dancing 
away  to  the  first  strain,  and  the  rest  are  gradually 
intected  just  as  before.  Now  it  must  stop,  with 
reluctant  skip ;  and  there  comes  a  song  that  with 
all  possible  grace  and  lightness  has  a  certain  speak- 
ing way : 


STRINGS. 


FLUTES. 


In  the  return  of  principal  theme  things  arc 
somehow  reversed,  as  in  Alice's  Wonderland. 
At  first  the  heavier  figures  began,  the  low  voices 
rousing  the  higher.  Now  the  lighter  trebles  lead 
off  and  are  joined  each  by  a  bigger  neighbor. 
279 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

Finally  the  frivolous  air  is  sung  below  the  dance 
figure  by  clumsy  basses  of  strings.  There  is  the 
same  maze  as  before,  and  the  round  dance  of  the 
second  tune.  But  now  the  episode  is  new.  Here 
we  break  away  from  all  the  general  impersonal 
din  and  mob.  This  is  the  best  of  it  all,  without 
a  doubt, — a  moment  of  personal  confidence,  sin- 
cere, yet  tinged  with  the  lightness  of  the  scene 
and  of  the  dance's  rhythm  which  holds  our  talk 
in  its  sway : 


pizz. 

And  mocking  voices  are  spying  and  laughing 
280 


MENDELSSOHN   AND   RAFF 

about.  It  is  a  tete-b-tetc  snatched  from  the  festi- 
val's whirl.  Somehow  we  are  loth  when  it  ends, 
and  we  are  hurried  back  to  the  general  dance 
which  begins  once  again.  And  now  the  mad 
frolic  rages  in  real  earnest.  The  former  maze 
was  real  child's  play.  Four  separate  groups  at 
least  we  can  see  dancing  the  figure,  each  at  a 
different  point,  all  in  perfect  agreement  of  motion. 
For  some  reason  the  brass  are  sounding  a  big 
signal  blast  in  the  midst.  And  now,  in  purest 
fun,  they  dance  the  step  just  twice  as  slow,  the 
big  basses  leading  off.  At  last,  with  much  more 
diminished  speed,  all  sing  the  strain  together, 
ending,  of  course,  with  maddest  clog  of  all. 


28 1 


X 
BRAHMS'    FIRST    SYMPHONY 

THE  first  symphony  has  its  own  interest, 
like  the  maiden  speech,  and  in  highest 
degree  when  it  is  written  in  our  time.  It  is  like 
the  philosophy  of  a  new  teacher.  The  man's  spirit, 
his  personal  tone,  is  specially  stamped  therein. 
And  in  the  first  there  is  the  added  charm  of  novelty. 

To  be  sure,  with  many,  with  most  masters  it 
is  but  tentative, — is,  after  all,  a  mere  academic 
essay.  No  one  thinks  of  Haydn  or  Mozart's 
first  symphony.  Beethoven's  had  little  of  his 
musical  individuality.  It  did  not  emerge  from 
the  shadow  of  his  elders. 

It  is  interesting  to  count,  and  to  find  merely 
two,  Schumann  and  Brahms,  who  in  the  first 
symphonic  work  gave  an  important  message.  It 
is  somewhat  a  matter  of  age.  Brahms  had 
waited  longest.  It  is  not  strange,  therefore,  that 
his  first  word  is  far  the  boldest  of  all.  One  can 
imagine  none  of  the  earlier  masters  hearing  it 
without  wonder,  not  even  Schumann,  who  knew 

Brahms  in  the  piano  sonata. 
282 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

To  be  sure,  this  radical  trait  does  not,  itself, 
insure  greatness.  The  past  century  has  been 
marked  with  no  other  quality  more  than  this  of 
novelty,  until  it  has  proven  its  own  refutation. 
Originality  has  a  bigger  meaning  than  strangeness. 
The  conscious  striving  for  bizarre  effect  is  a  fatal 
symptom  of  poetic  weakness.  The  true  poet 
must  begin  in  full  sympathy  with  the  best  that 
has  gone  before  him.  True  individuality  must  be 
an  unconscious  trait  of  expression.  It  is  not  by 
rejecting,  but  by  crowning  the  preceding  art  that 
a  new  poet  earns  high  place. 

At  once  an  austerity  and  a  mature,  fully  devel- 
oped originality  appear  with  the  first  note.  The 
muse  of  Brahms  seems  truly  Pegasean,  seems  to 
have  grown  out  of  the  regular  course.  You  do 
not  see  the  paling  lines  of  older  masters'  influ- 
ence. From  the  beginning  he  seems  to  have  his 
God-given  manner,  like  a  later  Zeus-born  hero 
ot  song.  The  whole  process,  the  fragrance  of 
melody,  the  lesser  figures,  the  very  orchestration 
are  his  own  to  a  degree  almost  beyond  belief. 

There  is,  in  truth,  a  sense  of  harking  back,  with 

other   poets   of  the  age,   to    elemental   things, 

through   myths  and  legends.     In  Brahms   this 

primal  fragrance  of  motives  is  ever  fresh  in  the 

283 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

pure  crystal  of  spontaneous  form,  that  is  like 
organic  growth.  His  scheme  of  colors  is,  above 
all,  clear, — not  sensuous,  for  its  own  sake. 

As  we  read  of  the  young  Beethoven  coming  to 
Vienna  "  all  for  the  grand,"  *  so  Brahms  was  filled 
with  true  heroic  temper,  not  lacking  in  most 
expressive  melody. 

It  is  good  to  have  lived  in  the  time  of  such  a 
man,  a  great  gift  of  the  gods  to  know  him  when 
he  comes,  a  sad  fate  to  fail  to  see  the  mark  of  a 
great  spirit.  The  truth,  after  all,  is,  the  people 
are  not  the  test ;  on  the  contrary,  the  certain  test 
is  just  the  other  way.  The  true  audience  for 
living  genius  must  always  be  those  wrho  see  far 
ahead.  It  may  be  said,  as  a  rule,  that  never  have 
the  people  instantly  hailed  a  true  genius  ;  when 
they  have  praised  an  early  utterance,  the  poet  has 
never  proven  a  classic. 

Amidst  the  maze  of  lesser  evidence  is  one  very 
simple  sign  of  great  tonal  poetry :  an  Andante 
melody.  Smaller  men  may  roar  themselves 
into  a  bacchanale  of  sound  and  fury,  but  they 
cannot  think  the  quiet,  measured  melody  of 

*  Grove's   ''Dictionary    of    Music,"    Vol.    I.  p.    1 66  ; 
Thayer,  Ltben,  Vol.  I.  p.  237. 
284 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

sober  pace.  Here  alone  is  a  sure  proof  for 
Brahms  in  all  his  symphonies,  not  least  in  the 
first.  Not  since  Schumann  have  there  appeared 
such  melodies  to  hold  the  ear  and  comfort  the 
soul ;  nor  do  we  find  them  in  the  works  of  any 
others  living  in  the  time  of  Brahms. 

Reading  this  prologue  of  Sostenuto,  we  are 
struck  with  the  solemnity  of  message.  No  bub- 
bling spirits  break  forth,  as  in  Schumann's  first 
symphony,  which,  in  the  new  light,  seems  a  little 
like  Haydn.  Gathering  masses  move  slowly 
down  (in  the  wind)  in  doubled  thirds,  against  a 
rising  phrase  of  strings : 

(Strings,  doubled  in  two  lower  8ves.) 
Un  poco  soslenulo. 


legato. 


Slowly  the  double  pulse  rouses  the  rhythmic 
motion,  ending  in  trilling  cadence.  Now  hollow 
picking  of  strings 

285 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 


0-0     i     ^h-^— 


(Pizz.  strings  in  8ves   reinforced  in  four  8ves  of  wood.) 


and  piping  of  wind—of  strange  token  —  are  an- 
swered with  the  first  fervent  strain  of  human 
appeal 

(Strings,  doubled  in  fagots  and  higher  flutes.) 


ffl^j5"£ 

*  -       •  *  vw    *  _ 


'~j~**j±j=1=  l-fr 

'S^l^ 


J^CL£g^- 

'-r-f-r-r-  -Bf-r-r-f-r 


that  is  a  most  marked  trait  of  Brahms  as  a  later 
Eusebius, — his  own  note  of  rare  tenderness  that 
ever  comes  after  vague  striving.  Like  Beethoven 
it  is,  only  in  the  fervent  strength  and  sincerity  of 
feeling.  A  big  conclusive  sweep  of  descending 
tones  leads  to  the  first  budding  sign  of  main 
theme,  still  in  sostenuto  pace.  Gradually  it  hurries 
and  confuses  its  arpeggic  gait,  then  turns  back 
for  one  more  splendid  march  of  the  first  heavy 
figures.  A  new  answer  here  glides  in,  in  softest 
chase  of  wood  and  cellos,  the  very  essence  of 
286 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 


delicate  poesy,  most  fragrant  as  it  steals  its  gentle 
path  upward  and  down,  in  rounding  phrase 


OBOE. 


P 


. 


T: 


r 


HORNS  AND  FAGOTS. 

daintily  clear  as  spoken  words, — to  the  sudden 
force  and  motion  of  Allegro  theme  : 

STRINGS. 
Allegro. 


(Basic  theme,  in  strings  and  fagots.) 

JU- 


Yet — such  is  the  maze  of  interrelating  motives — 
this  new  strain  is  hardly  more  than  countertheme 

287 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

to  another,  a  brief,  quicker  form  of  our  first 
phrase  of  slow  moving  harmonies.  For,  with 
new  vigor  of  motion,  these  surging  chords,  closing 
with  electric  run,  are  the  real  theme  of  Allegro, 
as  of  Sostenuto,  and  even  of  later  phase.  The  new 
motive  is  now,  to  be  sure,  the  more  eminent ;  but 
the  older  phrase  is  pressing  on  in  a  steady  flow  of 
answering  canon.  The  newer  has  the  apparent 
dominance ;  but  the  other  is  really  basic.  Thus  the 
sense  of  pressing  onward,  groping  and  struggling 
through  heavy  masses,  first  dimly,  in  the  Sostenuto, 
then  with  joyous  hope,  is  the  clear  fundamental  idea. 
Of  the  especial  Allegro  theme,  we  must  see 
first  that  the  quality  is  less  of  fullest  melody,  in 
older  sense,  than  ot  spring  of  motion  and  promise 
of  coming  achievement.  Yet  in  its  bold  wing  on 
high  it  has  presently  rounded  a  tune.  And  now 
the  answer  is  of  phrases  of  the  prologue,  of 
picking  strings  and  intimate  response  : 


(Doubled  in  higher  wood.) 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

Only  they  are  both  transformed  in  brilliant  strength 
and  masterful  stride.  The  note  of  sympathy 
yields  to  the  very  opposite,  of  heavily  clanging 
chord  and  clashing  rhythm,  yet  rising  hopefully 
to  bright  climax  and  returning  theme. 

Here  is  the  splendor  of  deeds  and  motion  of 
former  promise.  Through  bold  light,  the  mobile 
theme  darts  to  new  tone,  still  of  minor.  Brahms 
dwells  in  the  sober  realm  of  contained,  almost 
fearful  joy.  But  the  melody  itself  wings  in  freest 
career,  losing  all  but  semblance  of  its  rhythmic 
gait,  —  now  in  three  voices,  one  on  high,  two 
singing  below  in  opposing  motion,  until  they 
meet  in  united  fall  of  crashing  chords.  Even 
then  the  motion  cannot  stop,  —  the  momentum 
is  too  great.  So  in  the  mere  shadowy  phrase  of 
close,  the  big  chords  tumble  along  in  constant 
mutual  chase,  rising  to  altogether  new  scene  : 


(Reinforced  in  full  orchestra.) 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

The  chase  is  pursued  in  lighter  steps  of  lesser 
phrases.  But,  before  we  go  farther,  we  must 
note  two  things, — the  fulness  of  thought  of 
our  invocation,  holding  indeed  all  the  germs 
of  Allegro  song ;  second,  the  mastering  move- 
ment of  it  all.  The  sense  of  Titan  stride  is  the 
pervading  element. 

In  the  run  of  light  figure  the  chase  is  more 
flitting,  as  of  pairs  of  butterflies,  answered,  in 
moments,  by  curving  cadence,  where  the  first 
theme  sounds  from  below.  The  chase  seems  by 
nature  endless,  in  the  change  of  flickering  shades 
of  tone. 


(Pizz.  strings,  supported  by  horns  and  clarinets.) 


For  a  moment  comes  the  temptation  to  see  in 

technical  devices  how  the  tone  seems  to  shift 

by  less  than  the  smallest  step  of  modern  music. 

By  boldly  holding  the  bass,  while  other  voices 

290 


BRAHMS'    FIRST    SYMPHONY 

move  through  least  of  steps,  a  strange  intermediate 
tone  somehow  shimmers  through,  with  magic 
sense  of  new  discovered  tonal  prism,  as  of  an 
insect  world. 

The  symphony  is  full  of  Olympian  moments 
of  a  certain  quiet  beatitude,  that  carry  us  to  the 
isles  of  the  blest, — a  vein  out  of  the  nervous 
humor  of  the  times.  So  the  swing  of  a  placid 
cadence  is  reached ;  the  horn  begins  a  friendly 
call,  echoed  by  the  wood.  The  whole  move- 
ment is  on  so  great  a  scale  that  the  structure 
refuses  to  betray  its  lines,  though  ever  giving 
convincing  evidence  of  its  big  perfection.  It  is 
like  the  dazzling  view  of  cathedral,  where  you 
cannot  pierce  the  maze  by  clear  sight  of  bal- 
ancing figures,  and  yet  you  feel  the  overpowering 
completeness.  Here  is  just  such  a  bewildering 
wealth  of  lesser  melodies.  '  But  there  is  no 
doubt  at  all  ot  tne  ruling  idea  of  Allegro,  which 
now  reappears  in  the  double  figure  of  main 
theme. 

And  so,  here  it  is  again,  starting  from  basses 
and  spurring  to  friendliest  conclusion  of  wood 
and  strings.  A  new  expressive  answer  of  oboe 
ends  in  cooing  duet  on  the  simple  call.  The 

voices  have  stolen  into  the  dim  shade  of  new 
291 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

Woon  AND  STRINGS. 


region,    where    the    call    is    sounded    softly    by 
horns : 

(Repeated  more  than  once.) 


as  of  answering  night-doves  in  the  forest.  Still 
darker  grows  the  scene, — then  a  sudden  energy 
starts  the  strings : 


(Strmgs  ;  the  motive  repeating  and  ascending.) 

-fr-gr 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

and  though  it  grows  to  full,  vigorous  strain  of 
its  own,  we  feel  the  main  theme  coursing  in  the 
bass.  Presently,  in  inversion,  we  are  merely  in 
the  climax  of  the  rehearsed  sounding  of  themes. 
The  next  phase  has  the  galloping  motive  in 
full  chorus,  in  various  voices,  like  unruly  horses 
that  run  amuck.  But  it  is  a  mere  brief  vent  of 
spirits  before  the  figure  goes  gently  browsing  in 
slowest  pace  through  strangest  pastures,  resting  a 
moment  in  new  tonal  spot,  and  wandering  on. 
Suddenly  the  nervous  throb  starts  in  the  strings, 
and,  ascending  in  strange  sequence,  bursts  into  a 
loud  hymnal  phrase 


(Strings,  with  rhythmic  horns.) 


that  seems  to  have  grown,  in  thought,  out  of  an 
earlier  bit,  where,  after  the  first  verse  of  Allegro 
theme  ended  in  cadence  of  tumbling  chords,  the 
chase  of  harmonies  keeps  on.  It  is  here  a  more 
articulate  and  extended  strain.  Together  with 
the  nervous  motion,  it  sounds  again  in  higher 
293 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

scene ;  then  the  shorter  phrase  of  hymnal 
chords,  as  in  brilliant  chase,  soars  along  in  canon 
of  briefest  theme,  through  glinting  light. 

As  this  has  come  to  resounding  close,  with 
gentle  echo,  we  see  the  mystic  enigma  of  the 
close  knitting  of  all  this  thought,  without  the 
plain  themal  lines  of  older  symphony.  For  here, 
in  softest  passing  of  hazy  chords  against  higher 
phrase,  is  again  the  gentlest,  steady  journey  of 
fleecy  clouds  that  hold  the  eye  in  trance  of  rapt 
absorption : 

(Strings,  brass  and  wood,  doubled  in  higher  8ve.) 


^===g±fcgz:  =z^z^z=^i 

•.TF-,       f.   Tn     TF.          TF-,    ST.          T          TT. 
I  ^U      I         ,>  I         ^>  I  g> 

(Drums  and  basses  an  8ve  lower.) 

and  this  very  bit  of  musical  thought  that  seems 
exactly  in  its  place  is  the  first  line  of  original 
Sostenuto.  But  the  mystic  trait  of  these  harmo- 
nies is  the  wonder  of  this  first  word  of  latest 
symphonist,  as  they  speak  a  primordial  truth  from 
grayest  ages, — before  man  had  lost  a  higher  sense 
of  deep  wondering  in  the  nervous  bustle  of  small 
concerns.  This  vein  we  see  throughout  Brahms, 
confirmed  in  different  way  in  each  symphony. 
294 


BRAHMS'    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

It  might  be  all  unwitting  to  the  poet  (and  this 
is  really  all  beside  the  mark),  save  that  here  and 
there,  in  lesser  works,  he  has  noted  a  line  of  verbal 
verse  as  index  of  his  thought.*  There  seems  no 
doubt  that  our  master  uttered  a  profound  sense 
of  elemental  beauty,  in  the  hue  of  ancient  legend. 

Just  how  music  will  give  this  sense  without 
the  titling  word,  though  it  can  be  clearly  shown, 
is  not  here  our  special  field.  By  a  close  glance 
at  the  elements,  of  rhythm,  harmony,  even  the 
timbre  of  instrument,  the  subtle  association  could 
be  surely  established. 

A  certain  trait  of  all  this  new  breath  of  poetry 
is  an  elemental  ease  of  movement,  a  leisurely 
lounging  along,  beyond  the  touch  of  hustling 
time,  as  if  the  ages  were  before  us, — a  greater 
reach,  a  bigger  view  than  the  muse  has  taken 
through  all  this  century  of  tense  Romanticism. 

The  drive  through  stress  of  shifting  masses, 
that  comes  as  the  first  vision  of  the  symphony, 
pervades  the  whole,  independent  of  first  phrase. 
There  is  no  doubt  the  discussion  is  largely  on 
slower  motive  of  main  theme,  augmented  at  a 
rate  Beethoven  would  never  have  dreamt  of.  The 


*  See  Brahms'  Ballads  and  the  Andante  of  Sonata  in  C. 
295 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

hymnal  strain  grows,  as  do  the  best  melodies  m 
Schumann's  symphonies,  after  and  out  of  the 
principal  themes.  When  the  whole  cycle  has 
sung,  the  elemental  groping  through  moving 
masses  returns,  tinged  with  a  sense  of  prismatic 
wandering.  We  must  not  fail  to  see  that  the 
nervous  motion  is  associated  in  the  Sostenuto  with 
the  main  theme.  Indeed,  all  this  thought  can  be 
seen  in  the  germ  in  the  first  prologue. 

The  dim  journey  of  browsing  meditation  has 
reached  the  lowest  point  of  descent,  and  now 
turns  slowly  upward. 

We  might  well  say  that  the  detail  of  small 
phrases  and  their  connection  ought  to  be  ignored  ; 
that  the  true  intent  is  the  total  impression,  from 
an  unstudied  view  ;  that  in  the  close  search  much 
is  lost  of  the  whole  conception.  In  most  masters 
we  have  the  landmarks  of  larger  themal  melodies. 
With  Brahms,  in  their  frequent  absence,  the 
smaller  motives  seem  to  get  a  certain  symbolic 
value.  Then,  the  vague  sense  of  former  origin 
may  be  all  we  need.  Yet  the  actual  and  exact 
discovery  is  a  most  pleasant  confirmation  of  our 
own  perception  and  of  the  poet's  art. 

As  the  thoughtful  wandering  mounts  towards 

the  light,  the  quicker  phrase,  without  the  nervous 
296 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

strum,  plays  above.  At  the  height,  instead  of 
the  hymnal  strain  of  yore,  comes  a  broad  con- 
clusion, descending  in  irresistible  sequence,  in 
clashing  duet  of  the  brief  motive  and  of  the 
quick  phrase  that  first  preceded  the  main  theme : 

WOOD. 


(Full  orchestra,  every  phrase  doubled  in  8ves.) 


that  was  indeed  its  origin.  This  soon  glides  into 
the  slow  chromatic  chase,  the  oldest  and  the  all- 
pervading  figure.  Thence  by  natural  though  over- 
powering climax  the  cycle  of  themes  is  reached. 
297 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

In  one  way  we  must  keep  our  view  off  the 
small  themes,  or  we  shall  lose  the  big  sense.  The 
consummate  art,  in  its  correspondence  of  phrases, 
is  here  tempting  against  its  own  best  reception. 

The  reprise  is  like  the  original  statement,  but 
for  the  second  strain  of  first  theme,  with  climax 
of  tumbling  chords.  So  the  germ  and,  of  course, 
all  trace  ot  the  hymnal  song  are  wanting.  The 
whole  expressive  phrase  out  of  which  springs  the 
cooing  duet  of  dove-calls  is  there  in  full  length. 
Still,  we  are  held  more  and  more  by  the  predomi- 
nance of  the  one  idea,  to  which  the  others  are  foil, 
and  with  the  clear  prophetic  sway  of  the  Sostenuto. 

The  big  ending  ot  the  first  refrain  of  themes 
is  lengthened  and  strengthened  to  the  liveliest 
accent  of  the  old,  driving  iambic  gait  : 

(In  four  8ves  of  the  wood.) 


(In  three  8ves  of  strings.) 


Towards  the  last  line,  the  slow-shifting  cloud 
masses  (of  first  beginning)  return  on  the  lively 
step  of  the  theme,  and  end  in  broad  cadence  of 
serene  assurance,  gliding  into  one  more  phase 
of  the  Sostenuto,  in  solemn  and  transfigured  mood. 
298 


BRAHMS'    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

The  first  link  with  earlier  thought  is  in  the 
Andante,  that  is  certainly  German  folk-song 
in  fibre;  yet  there  can  be  no  denying  the 
abounding  color  of  a  new  personality.  The  vein 
of  true  Andante  had  not  been  struck  for  a  long 


Andante  sostemilo. 


time,  not  since  Schumann  ;  and  there,  while  gain- 
ing a  certain  intimate  charm,  it  may  lose  some- 
thing of  broad,  world-wide  sympathy.  In  the 
Rhine  Symphony  we  have  rather  a  folk-idyl  than 
a  note  of  big  plaint.  It  is  a  dangerous  ground, 
this,  searching  for  elements  of  such  a  quality  as 
sympathy.  On  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  said 
to  vary  with  each  poet,  so  that  with  one  it  has 
lost  all  sound  message,  is  a  mere  weak,  personal 
lament.  We  have  distinguished  the  fanciful, 
eerie  strain  of  Schubert  and  of  Mendelssohn 
from  the  human  of  Beethoven.  Any  kind  of 
feeling  may  be  eminent :  legendary,  say,  idyllic, 
299 


BRAHMS'    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

or  intimate.  Rough  though  these  labels  be,  there 
is  a  certain  kind  of  tune  and  of  poetic  mood  where 
a  broad  sympathy  mainly  pervades.  This  is  most 
clear  in  the  first  of  our  latest  master's  symphonies. 
The  feeling  seems  to  crop  out  at  special  points, 
as  at  the  beginning,  or  in  the  answer.  It  will 


(In  woodwind  and  horns,  —  repeated.  ) 


yield  before  the  spark  of  Promethean  boldness, 
to  return  with  new  assurance  in  the  cadence  : 


above  all,  in  its  firm  second  assertion. 
300 


BRAHMS'    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

And  then  the  best  often  comes  in  the  after- 
phrase,  as  here  of  cadence,  and  in  the  great  wide- 
hearted  sweep  of  concluding  strain. 

All  this  seems  the  full  enjoyment  of  a  simple 
tune,  until  we  stand  in  a  certain  novel  amaze- 
ment, when,  perhaps  on  second  hearing,  we 
catch  down  in  the  bass  of  conclusion  the  whole 
theme  over  again.  It  is  here  that  the  art  and 
genius  of  Brahms  take  on  something  of  the 
marvellous, — that  prompts  the  use  of  strange 
words  in  superlative.  There  is  in  such  a  dis- 
covery a  sense  of  delighted  wonder,  as  when, 
with  the  aid  of  lens,  we  find  the  hidden  beauties 
of  a  snowdrop.  With  such  a  master  one  can 
never  reach  a  state  of  high  disdain  ;  for  the  lofty 
critic  can  never  be  sure  he  has  not  missed  some 
secret  treasure  in  the  vanity  of  his  easy  survey. 
There  is  never  room  for  the  satiety  of  listener ; 
one  can  never  feel  that  one  knows  Brahms  "  by 
heart."  There  is  ever  a  danger  of  an  entirely 
new  view  and  tonal  purpose  that  has  altogether 
escaped.  There  is  a  bit  of  the  delight  of  a 
child's  game  of  hide-and-seek  :  one  may  ever  be 
on  the  invisible  heels  of  the  quarry. 

Again,  we  cannot  resist  a  wonder  at  the 
strange  harmonies  in  mere  cadence,  in  this  first 
301 


BRAHMS'    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

symphonic  word,  and  finally  in  the  new  way — 
privilege  of  highest  genius — of  saying  simplest 
thought. 

We  might  speak  now  of  the  art  of  the  fol- 
lowing strain  (really  a  part  of  the  original  answer) : 


(Strings,  with  fagots  and  horns.) 


with  its  thread  of  melody  above  the  canon. 
But  the  spirit  and  feeling  must  never  be  lost  in 
this  smaller  view.  And  so,  canon  and  closer 
imitative  woof  are  all  lesser  in  the  fervent  after- 
verse,  all  still  in  tone  and  vein  of  the  first.  But 
302 


BRAHMS'    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

it  prepares  gently  and  perfectly  for  the  flowing 
second  subject : 


that  pours  a  free  carolling  song  from  the  oboe. 
To  be  sure,  in  its  midst  another  voice  from  the 
wood,  in  ideal  mirror  of  nature,  is  roused  to  the 
same  strain, — not  waiting  for  the  leader  to  end, 
though  it  does  have  a  new  sense  of  answer  in 
the  varying  tune.  With  the  same  abandon  a 
third  breaks  forth  in  lowest  bass.  Before  we  are 
aware,  all  this  carolling  is  joined  to  the  human 
strain  of  first  cadence.  With  wondrous  beauty, 
as  the  third  voice  begins,  deep  in  bass,  the  second 
breaks  with  sudden  upward  curve,  all  with  spon- 
taneous fervor,  though  unlocked  for,  into  the 
noble  melody  of  the  beginning.  And  yet  the 
new  carolling  song  keeps  on,  and  the  whole  is 
richest  blending  of  both  strains. 
303 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

There  is  something  in  the  complete  contrast 
of  these  two  melodies  that  gives  their  union  a 
sense  of  special  delight  of  big  truth.  For  this  new 
running  bird-call  is  the  most  careless  of  bucolics, 
recking  nothing  of  note  of  pathos,  not  even  of 
melodious  outline,  finding  its  charm  somehow  in 
this  very  tuneless  freedom,  in  the  rare  clash  of  its 
elusive  course  against  the  dainty  harmonies  in 
strings,  and  other  forest  notes.  So  when  the 
second  ingenuous  bird-throat  strikes  the  lay,  the 
whole  is  enchanting  idyl  of  nature's  polyphony. 
It  is  all  completed  by  the  resonant  voice  far  in 
the  bass,  in  deeper  vein,  while  at  the  same  time 
the  main  theme  is  sweetly  insinuated  in  freer 
phrase  of  clarinet,  in  crowning  cadence  of  the 
whole.  Ever  the  main  subject  stands  against  the 
former  abandon,  for  a  world-wide  sympathy. 
The  wonder  is,  how  perfectly  they  join  in  the 
fervent  close,  how  the  lighter  phrase  becomes 
aglow  by  contact  with  the  main  theme. 

The  two  are  constantly  playing  each  against 
the  other ;  and  so  the  feeling  of  one  heightens 
the  other.  The  fervent  main  subject,  or  its 
phrases,  will  come  as  foil  to  the  impersonal  elu- 
sive fancy  of  the  other.  To  be  sure,  the  first  is 
main  theme,  and  so  it  soon  holds  sole  sway, 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 


heralded  by  most  expressive  duet  (between 
strings  and  wood)  of  two  of  its  appealing  phrases. 
As  now  the  main  theme  sings,  to  a  gentle  triplet 
tread  of  bass,  a  new  melodious  air  is  woven 
about,  in  high  strings,  that  has  just  blossomed 
from  the  heralding  duet : 


(Obligate  in  three  8ves  of  strings.) 


The  full  course  of  the  song  is  more  moving  even 
than  at  first.  The  homeward  journey  gives  the 
harmonies  a  new  fervor.  The  phrases  have  a 
more  varied  guise,  and  thus,  hi  their  union,  a 
richer  choral  flow.  At  the  end,  the  big  con- 
clusion, with  theme  in  bass,  sings  its  hearty  fare- 
well again  and  again ;  the  after-phrase,  on  canon 
theme,  closes  with  repeated  strain. 

The   humor   of  Brahms   is    curious,  like   all 
higher  forms  of  humor,  which  is  a  matter  man- 
kind differ  about  as  much  as  possible.     All  men 
305 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

laugh ;  but  all  men  will  not  laugh  for  the  same 
cause.  So,  when  it  comes  to  humor,  who  has 
the  right  to  speak  save  of  his  own  special  sense  ? 
Who  may  deny  another's  gift  because  it  is  not 
of  the  same  strain  as  his  own  *?  When  two 
strange  nations  laugh  each  at  the  other's  lack  of 
humor,  the  true  jest  is  for  a  third. 

Brahms'  humor  does  seem  new  in  kind.  In 
other  moods  he  has  been  charged  with  striving  in 
the  path  of  Beethoven,  for  no  better  reason  than 
a  like  heroic  mould.  In  their  Scherzos  the 
masters  have  nothing  in  common.  For  one 
point,  with  Brahms  the  pace  is  less  than  of  the 
first  Allegro,  instead  of  the  greater  of  Beethoven. 
And  so  the  humor  is  more  delicate : 


Un  poco  allegretto  c  grazioso. 


It   does   make    its   insidious   appeal    here,  in 
306 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

quaint,  rollicking  phrase  of  clarinets,  extending 
against  all  law  just  one  measure,  with  the  dulcet 
countertheme  of  horn.  The  answer  is  conclusive 
in  every  way,  not  failing  in  the  stolen  measure. 
Now  the  lightest  sort  of  phrase  dances  down  in 
double  notes  from  high  wood  on  buoyant  wing 
of  arpeggic  strings,  ending  in  playful  cadence: 

(Doubled  in  woodwind.) 


dolce. 
(Arpeggic  obligato  in  strings.) 

So  now  the  slower,  staid  song  of  clarinet  returns, 
the  humor  is  far  clearer, — a  quaint  mock  dignity, 
of  short  stride,  fearfully  balanced  between  hurry 
and  halting.  The  novelty,  the  delicacy  and 
boldness  withal  cannot  be  denied,  and,  too,  in  a 
first  symphony.  The  vein  of  reposeful  humor, 
reflective, — that  corresponds  to  the  dry  wit  of 
words, — is  Brahms'  own.  Humor  with  him  did 
not  mean  high  excitement,  big  rushing  move- 
ment. It  lay  rather  in  the  strange  taste  of  a  tune, 
the  slow  jogging  gait,  the  subtle  touch  of  elfish 
phrase. 

In  the  second  melody,  though  it  begins  gently : 
307 


BRAHMS'   FIRST  SYMPHONY 


CLARINETS. 


f)  express. 
(With  ^  rhythmic  harmony  in  strings.) 

we  have  presently  a  moment  of  pure,  exuberant, 
joyous  motion,  playing  hide-and-seek  with  the 

(Doubled  in  8ves  and  wood.) 


(Accented  in  strings.) 

repressive  strain.     There  is,  to  be  sure,  a  differ- 
ence between  joy  and  humor. 

What  would  formerly  have  been  called  Trio 
is  a  new  scene  in  the  midst  of  the  Scherzo, — 
new  in  color  and  region  of  tone,  and  new  in  the 
manner  of  motion, — a  slow  swing  of  two  paces, 
of  which  each  has  three  lesser  steps,  well  designed 
for  big  gathering  mass  on  simplest  motive.  Con- 
trast is  a  basic  element  of  humor.  It  is  in  the 
quick  conjuring  of  tonal  opposites  that  Brahms 

is  behind  no  other  poet. 
308 


BRAHMS'    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

This  Trio,  in  its  natural,  swinging  trip,  after  the 
quaint  gait  of  Scherzo,  is  again  a  pure  buoyant 


utterance  of  high  delight.  The  relapse  to  the 
weird  tread  of  the  first  melody  completes  the 
humorous  cycle.  Yet  we  must  beware  of  our 
own  terms  and  symbols.  They  are,  after  all, 
mere  images  that  we  have  conjured  to  give  shape 
to  the  sense  that  we  feel.  So  there  is  a  touch 
of  exquisite  refreshment  in  the  last  run  of 
main  melody,  when  the  tune  extends  to  charm- 
3«>9 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

ing  after-phrase  with  freer  rhythmic  utterance, 
leaving  the  staid  rut  of  clownish  clog.  But 
there  is  a  new  touch  of  friendly  meaning; 
again  "the  poet  speaks,"  breaking  through  the 
guise  of  his  puppet  figures.  With  a  like  trans- 
formed song  of  all  the  strains,  the  movement 
ends. 

Adagio  begins  a  dim  passing  of  chords  like 
clouds  across  the  tonal  horizon,  all  in  the  spirit 
of  the  first  thought  of  the  symphony.  But  now 
the  harmonies  of  the  woodwind  are  topped  by  a 
clear  melodic  idea  in  high  strings  : 


Adagio.  (Doubled  in  strings.) 


that  marks  a  new  token.  No  reminiscent  phrase 
is  here  that  harks  back  to  earlier  prophecy ;  the 
outcome  is  at  hand,  the  bright  result  and  reward 
of  the  groping  and  striving.  As  yet  it  is  shadowy 


310 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

and  infrequent.  Scarce  is  the  stately  pace  de- 
fined, when  in  breaks  an  opposite,  fragmental, 
halting  gait,  of  shortest  motive  : 


(Doubled  in  two  lower  8ves.) 
Pizz.  STRINGS. 


that    soon    hurries    nervously    to   big  height  of 
sound,  whence  returns  the  first  placid  song. 

But,  although  the  main  idea  of  the  Finale  is 
new  and  crowning,  yet  we  must  not  fail  to  see 
the  common  woof  of  lesser  figures  here  and  in 
earliest  beginning.  And  we  must  yield  a  point 
that  may  almost  seem  the  whole.  It  is  not 
needful  for  the  listener  consciously  to  know  all 
the  detail,  to  catch  the  true  ring  and  purport  of 
the  whole.  It  may  even  be  possible  to  lose 
oneself  in  the  mass  and  maze  of  this  under- 
growth,— to  miss  the  whole  wood  for  the  trees. 
The  big  result  is — we  have  found  long  ago — the 
personal  tone  that  is  transmitted  through  all  these 
subtle  feats  of  highest  art.  The  true  answer, 
again  to  sum  in  former  words,  is  the  balance  of 
clear  view  and  tense  enjoyment.  Though  there 
may  be  too  close  a  gaze  at  the  visible  notes,  yet 
3" 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

this  danger,  in  truth,  exists,  at  most,  for  the  single 
student.  In  the  great  world  of  listeners  the 
lack  of  balance  is  all  the  other  way ;  the  fault  is 
a  basic  ignorance  of  the  dignity  of  the  art,  the 
spirit  of  the  old  Philistine  to  whom  it  was  all 
tweedledum  and  tweedledee,  or,  almost  worse, 
a  certain  modern  hedonism  that  awaits  the 
mere  physical  stimulus  of  tones,  cares  nothing 
for  a  spiritual  message. 

To  feel  this  common  background  in  first 
movement  and  in  last  is  the  important  need.  It 
is  best  pointed  and  confirmed  in  the  concrete 
phrase.  In  the  very  first  line  was  a  waving  mo- 
tive of  three  neighboring  notes : 


In    the    second    expressive    strain    is    a    slight 
change  of  outline : 


The  third  is  much  like  the  second : 


BRAHMS'    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

Such  phrases  abound  in  the  background  of  the 
Adagio  that  begins  the  Finale,  and  bring  with 
them  the  groping  mood  that  does  at  last  strike 
sweetness  and  light.  Nor  does  it  spoil  this  sense 
of  the  poet's  meaning  that  the  very  theme  of  the 
Finale  itself,  symbol  of  the  new  joy  and  truth, 
has  grown  out  of  the  old. 

If  we  compare  here  the  basic  motive  of 
Brahms'  Second  Symphony,  we  see  the  master's 
tendency  to  find  a  motto,  in  smallest  atom  of  tonal 
figure,  for  the  work  of  greatest  depth  and  reach 
and  breadth.*  Nor  can  we  miss  the  close  like- 
ness in  the  two  sostenuto  preludes  of  first  and 
last  movements.  The  second  halting  passage  is 
foil  to  the  groping  chords,  as  a  like  phrase  was 
in  the  beginning. 

After  rehearsing  of  both  strains,  a  new  pulse 
of  nervous  hope  stirs  first  in  low  strings,  while 
the  old  symbol  of  dim  search  is  singing  faintly 
above  in  the  wood.  Then  the  expectant  mood 
possesses  all  the  voices,  rising  on  the  line  of  the 
halting  second  phrase. 

Finally  come  mere  pelting  accents  (still  of  an 
ancient  motive) 

*  Vol  I.  Chap.  XIII. 
313 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 


against  basses  marching  steadily  up  the  chro- 
matic line.  There  is  an  overpowering  mass  of 
heaped  and  strained  expectation.  As  the  answer 


( pp  Trombones  and  muted  strings.) 

( Horns  alone  are  forte,  semprc  appassionato. ) 


sings  'mid  softest  hum  of  light  wood  and  lowest 
314 


BRAHMS'    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

brass  and  strings,  in  clear  and  passionate  notes  of 
the  horn,  here  is  one  of  the  most  overwhelming 
moments  of  sublime  beauty  in  all  poetry. 

We  do  not  care  that  even  here  we  can  trace  the 
theme  in  small  origin  ;  for  the  mass  of  intri= 
cate  striving  and  groping  is  all  of  the  past.  A 
transfigured  melody  here  sings  in  all  clearness 
and  with  freest  reach.  And  all  other  sounds  have 
ceased  save  the  restrained  hum  and  harmony  of 
trembling  strings  and  sustaining  basses. 

There  is  a  ring,  here,  like  no  other  song  in 
music.  Something  there  seems  to  be  of  the 
tones  of  Pythian  oracle,  of  celestial  message,  in 
the  clearness,  'mid  the  sacred  hush.  Nor  is  the 
song  of  one  voice  alone.  Slowly  a  madrigal 
of  responsive  voices  is  reared.  In  the  midst  is 
a  single  strain  of  pure  hymn,  in  low  brass  and 
wood,  in  strict  choral  steps,  —  a  passing  touch,  in 


FAGOTS,  HORNS  AND  TROMBONES 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

still  higher  empyrean,  as  of  pure  religious  truth. 
Even  the  hum  of  strings  has  ceased.  There 
is  somehow  a  more  human  ring  as  the  clarion 
message  bursts  out  again,  more  joyously,  with 
new  echo  in  companion  horn.  The  pace, 
though  faster  than  the  first  Adagio,  is  still  a 
serenely  slow  Andante  swing.  As  it  moves, 
now  with  almost  feverish  glow,  we  feel  dimly 
that  it  is  itself  mere  herald  for  the  new  song 
that  breaks  forth  in  firm  array  of  martial  tones 
and  step  : 

Allegro  non  troppo,  ma  con  brio. 


. 

.      *  r^:      *  '.   f  • 

STRINGS  AND  HORNS. 

It  is,  to  come  to  a  quick  point,  the  symbol  of 
clear  achievement,  undisturbed  by  the  very  pangs 
of  joy,  —  a  true  song  of  the  happy  hunting- 
ground. 

In  its  own  way,  the  herald  figure  yields  nothing 
in  beauty  to  its  proud  successor;  so  that  the 
high  point  of  the  symphony  seems  to  lie  just  in 
this  entrancing  moment  of  breaking  light,  like 
the  first  red  ray  of  dawn.  Indeed,  it  is  possible 
316 


BRAHMS'    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

to  lay  too  much  stress  on  the  formal  eminence 
of  one  theme  over  another. 

The  marching  song  is  the  final  distilled  flower 
of  the  idea  that  began  the  Adagio,  when  higher 
phrase  of  strings  topped  the  dim  moving  chords 
in  the  wood.  It  is  the  realization  of  all  the 
lesser  motives  into  a  tune  of  firm  serenity. 
Another  answer  is  this  to  the  charge  of  imita- 
tion. The  tune  cannot  be  another's  ;  for  we  have 
seen  it  grow  from  smallest  seed. 

The  tune  swings  along  in  leisurely  sequence, 
and,  after  full-rounded  close,  is  taken  up  with 
added  choir  of  wood.  Lastly  the  brass  joins  in 
loudest  chorus.  Now  a  new  stir  and  strum  of 
rhythm  appear.  The  repose  of  steady  march 
is  lost ;  a  new  answer  to  the  first  strain  of  the 
tune  sounds  in  quick  notes  of  ancient  motive. 
A  new,  broad,  arpeggic  stride  is  in  the  violins, 
above  tumbling  violas,  crossed  by  another  in  the 
basses;  then  a  nervous  hurrying  of  voices  in 
quick  coursing  phrase, — all  in  tempest  of  tonal 
torrents,  ending  at  last  on  high,  where,  with  the 
old  solemn  clearness,  the  prophetic  figure  sings 
in  highest  flute,  echoed  by  magic  note  of  the 
horn,  the  sacred  song  in  intertwined  strains. 

In  such  a  moment  it  seems  that  the  world  has, 
317 


BRAHMS'    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

as  yet,  no  approaching  idea  ot  the  greatness  of 
Brahms,  as  he  looms  up  more  heroic  than  ever 
in  all  dimensions  of  his  art,  in  ever)'  mood  of 
poetry.  For,  after  this  brilliant  glimpse  of  glint- 
ing beauty,  of  ecstatic  joy,  here  is  our  second 
melody  (of  the  Allegro),  in  serene  reserve  and 
sustained  humor  of  contented  pace.  Wonderful 
is  this  sudden  descent  from  Gothic  passion  and 
sweetness  to  Olympian  calm.  It  is  alone  a 
mark  of  the  widest  reach  of  human  conception  : 

Animate.  STRINGS. 


*  r  *     r  f  *  *. 

ft  dolct.^  -  '  -  "  '  ^  --  '  ' 

(Bass  doubled  in  two  lower  8ves.) 

This  second  melody  (of  Allegro)  but  stresses 
the  true  quality,  and  in  its  line  of  newest  melody 
confirms  the  intrinsic  novelty  of  the  first.  There 
is  not  the  usual  contrast  of  themes;  for  both 
melodies,  instead,  stand  opposed  in  quiet,  assured, 
triumphant  stride  to  the  toil  and  throes  that 
precede  the  magic  song  of  the  Pythian  strain. 

More  than  the  first  has  this  second  Allegro 
tune  the  comfortable  charm  of  endless  delight. 
The  golden  vein  seems  to  lead  us  in  boundless, 
3'S 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

pleasant  quest.  But  the  gentle  motion  does  end 
with  a  new  nervous  stir  and  jolting  pace.  Yet, 
though  the  quiet  is  gone,  the  joy  is  not.  Rather 
is  there  a  faster  pulsing  of  rising  delight  that 
must  have  a  more  tumultuous  utterance.  For  a 
while  we  relapse  into  serene  glide  on  a  respond- 
ing phrase  of  our  tune  : 


^-^  — 

r     '    >—       '    — 

y  &^  —  = 

pgr—i  —  i  

ft 

£Q 

=4=i 

"**"  IN    i                i        N 

jfl  \  1  r 

! 

Soon,  as  this  is  taken  up  in  doubled  time  and 
ragged  beat  of  strings,  we  are  whirled  into  the 
midst  of  half-unison  pcean,  in  fullest  chorus : 

(Strings,  horns  and  contrafagots. )         TUTTI. 

'    ie£J 


s 

•f 


(Redoubled  in  higher  and  lower  8ves.) 


BRAHMS'   FIRST   SYMPHONY 

If  we  have  caught  the  clinging  habit  of  tracing 
themes  in  their  mystic  course,  we  see  that,  from 
the  beginning,  of  movement  and  even  of  sym- 
phony, there  was  contrast  between  the  even  flow 
and  eccentric  pace.  The  former  was,  we  have 
seen,  first  a  dim  groping,  then  an  approach  of 
light,  last  a  confident  serenity.  In  the  intervals, 
the  ragged  rhythm  uttered  the  uncertain  mood, 
the  increasing  stress  that  ends  in  triumph. 

Against  a  line  of  it  a  new  motive  now  ap- 
pears, in  petty  conflict  of  its  rolling  figure  : 


Quickly  it  envelops  all  the  previous  song  and 
crowns  it  with  a  new  touch  of  glee.  It  may  be 
quite  needless  to  search  for  a  dark  origin ;  but 
there  is  no  doubt  of  the  identity  of  one  of  our 
ancient  motives,  that  is  here  recalled  in  changed 
spirit  of  gladness.  After  a  moment  of  subdued 
mood,  there  is  a  sudden  burst  in  loud  chorus, 
in  duet  of  the  rolling  motion  on  high,  and  a 
masterful  stride  of  march  that  has  grown  out  of 
the  eccentric  song.  The  climax  is  the  joyous 
flood-tide  of  the  symphony,  as  the  rolling  phrase 
320 


BRAHMS'   FIRST  SYMPHONY 

and  the  stride,  now  in  even  pace  of  triumph,  play 
about  in  confusion  of  delight,  first  one,  then  the 
other  above,  the  march  carrying  the  main  song, 
but  the  merry  motive  adding  the  final  sparkle. 

Now,  after  a  half-pause,  re-enters  the  stately 
tune  of  main  march  with  a  more  festive  bril- 
liancy, a  prouder  ring.  The  earlier  song  of 
Allegro  melodies  returns  with  little  change,  save 
that  new  scenes  are  touched  in  homeward 
path.  All  the  joyous  episode  of  stress  returns 
and  leads  to  the  magic  of  the  prophetic  call,  and 
then  to  the  serene  humor  of  the  Olympian 
melody.  So  follows,  too,  once  more  the  big 
climax,  with  the  ancient  motive  entwined  about 
the  second  melody. 

Here  the  old  refrain  ceases.  Instead  of  a  final 
verse  of  main  march  is  here  a  mystic  spot  with 
solemn  echo  of  earliest  phrase  in  high  wood 
against  dim  figures  below,  while  the  strings  are 
running  their  former  quickened,  nervous  strain. 
But  the  tonal  light  gives  the  strange  hue  of 
sombre  mood,  with  grim  sense  of  barbaric  lore, 
that  slowly  presses  towards  the  light,  in  symbolic 
style  of  responsive  voices  of  the  canon,  which 
at  the  full  flood  plunges  with  utmost  joy  and 
speed  to  the  final  fanfare.  First  there  is  mere 

31  321 


BRAHMS'    FIRST   SYMPHONY 

noisy  whir  of  strings  against  blast  of  wind. 
Slowly  the  exuberance  finds  a  melodic  utterance 
in  the  old  pace  of  serene  triumph.  Just  one 
phrase  is  chanted  to  and  fro,  as  by  delighted 
children, 

STRINGS. 


ff  ben  marcato, 


in  ever  higher  tone. 

At  the  top  is  the  mere  beat  of  glad  foot,  until 
of  a  sudden  is  poured  forth  from  loudest  brass 
and  strings  the  hymnal  line  that  sounded  gently 
once  before  in  earlier  Adagio,  that  gives  once 
more  the  seal  of  religious  truth  to  the  plot  of 
mortal  stress  and  triumph. 

In  the  last  line  of  mad  revel  the  voices  start 
a  half-articulate  glee,  where  the  vague  theme 
strongly  recalls  one  of  the  elemental  motives. 

In  structure,  as  in  poetic  sense,  it  is  clear  that 
the  first  pervading  struggle  through  slow-moving 
masses,  the  basic  figure  of  the  first  Allegro,  re- 
turns in  the  last  for  final  solace  and  overpowering 
triumph. 


322 


XI 
BRAHMS'  THIRD  SYMPHONY 

THE  intense  ethical  or  moral  element  of 
Beethoven,  the  human,  the  fraternal,  is  less 
in  Brahms.  But  his  is  not  the  animal  materialism 
of  much  modern  art ;  it  is  too  sanely  balanced, 
it  has  too  high  a  stand  and  standard.  There  is  in 
Brahms  the  consummate  patience,  both  of  big 
design  and  of  least  detail,  that  assures  a  sound 
poetic  message.  This  is,  indeed,  the  one  test 
of  high  art.  In  humor  it  is  a  recoil  from  the 
tension  of  Romanticism.  As  we  have  said,  the 
high  perfection  insures  a  high  tone ;  but  the 
calmness,  as  of  Mozart,  leaves  the  message  less 
tensely  clear  than  of  Beethoven  and  of  Schu- 
mann. A  broader,  freer,  clearer  outlook  is 
Brahms',  oceanic  in  a  way,  if  not  quite  cosmic. 
Strange  how  the  view  onward  is  made  clearer  by 
a  big  harking  back  to  earliest  ages, — a  correction 
of  too  straight  and  strict  religious  sense  by  the 
more  primitive  significance  and  feeling  of  pagan 
cult.  A  bad  time  is  this  for  dogma.  It  is 
too  definite  and  is  doomed.  One  might  say 
323 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

that  nothing  that  can  be  defined  or  formulated  in 
human  speech  can  possibly  be  permanent. 
Truth  is  too  big  for  that  jargon  of  small  things. 
Dogma  must  go,  and,  with  it,  the  cult  and  creed 
of  narrow  religion  or  philosophy.  Christianity 
in  its  small  sense  has  too  long  overshadowed  the 
world.  Music  is  the  first  to  proclaim  the  new 
message,  though  elsewhere  the  legendary  element 
is  also  prominent. 

The  harking  back  to  the  sense  of  old  lore  is 
important,  not  for  itself  as  for  this  recoil  from 
narrow  view,  to  teach  the  world  that  all  truth 
does  not  date  from  the  last  two  thousand  years, 
that  great  poetic  divination  was  felt  elsewhere 
than  in  Oriental  lands, — in  ancient  times,  when 
truth  was  uttered,  if  not  in  individual  verse,  in 
legend  and  belief.  This  is  in  common  between 
the  two  opposing  champions  of  latest  music. 
The  one  chose,  in  a  literal  way,  to  turn  to  old 
legends  with  full  drama  of  personal  god;  the 
other  sought  the  freer,  less  limiting  way  of  pure 
art,  whose  breath,  without  label  of  words,  some- 
how stirs  man's  spirit  much  as  does  the  air  of 
woods  and  meadows,  calling  him  from  the  narrow 
thrall  of  dank  cloister.  There  is  also  a  mixture 
of  frugal  simplicity  with  high  complexity,  that 

3*4 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

profoundly  kindles  our  sense  of  ancient  truth. 
To  be  sure,  a  special  legendary  subject  cannot  be 
read  into  any  symphony;  it  lies  in  the  neo- 
ancient  quality  of  melodies  and  color  of  har- 
mony and  instruments.  Brahms  did  not  mar  his 
message  by  perverted  tales  of  ancient  lore,  redolent 
of  animalism  and  fatalism  that  must  die  for  lack 
of  buoyant  truth.  He  appeals  to  the  pure 
musical  intuition,  and  has  no  outward  indices 
save  where,  as  in  the  Ballads,  an  actual  verse  from 
Ossian  points  the  mood. 

We  can  never  neglect  the  very  beginning  in 
Brahms.  In  many  greatest  works  it  is  often  purest 
introduction,  preface,  riot  integral ;  in  Haydn  it 
is  often  irrelevant,  nay,  literally  impertinent; 
at  best,  like  grace  at  table.  In  Brahms,  push 
it  aside  as  we  will,  it  reappears  ever  with  haunt- 
ing meaning,  seems  ever  like  overshadowing 
motto.  Here  it  is  two  chords,  loud  and  long ; 
one  in  the  clear  bright  light  of  day,  the  second 
dark  and  sombre ;  we  are  between  clouds  and 
sunshine.  In  this  April  light  we  proceed.  In  a 
way,  Brahms  seems  to  have  the  symphonic  point 
of  view  more  than  any  one, — that  is,  the  element 
of  big  design.  The  perfect  placidity  of  his  poise 
helps  here ;  he  is  the  sanest,  perhaps,  of  all  secular 
325 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

masters  (where  Bach  is  absent) ;  at  least,  he  has 
least  frenzy  of  poet.  Beethoven  would  begin 
with  that  wonderful  reversible  way  of  his  :  melody 
of  bass  and  treble  which  can  be  inverted  with 
equal  effect.  Think  of  the  mastery  for  that  un- 
conscious art !  Somewhat  similarly  we  catch  in 
Brahms  a  special  profundity  of  design  which 

(Woodwind  and  Brass) 
Allegro  con  brio. 


(Seepage  325,  line  19.) 


that 


you  can 


does   not    lie   on  the  surface,  so 
never  study  him  in  a  hurry. 

Here  in  the  symphony  one  can  easily  neglect 
the  feet  that  the  motto  of  the  first  three  bars  is 
instantly  the  bass  of  the  next  in  contrafagottos 
and  strings,  the  ominous  motive  at  the  founda- 
tion of  all.  The  main  theme,  which  here 
begins,  sweeps  down  the  simple  lines  of  tonic 
chord,  too  free  for  modern  melody.  Strange 
3*6 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 


how  there  is  here  a  blending  of  the  new  and  very 
old  !  As  always,  the  greatest  truth  is  most  simple. 
The  simplicity  is  all  in  the  general  spirit;  for, 
looking  at  the  parts,  here  is  at  the  very  beginning 
a  double  rhythm,  the  main  one  of  basses  fighting 
the  swing  of  the  tune  : 

(Doubled  an  8ve  above.) 


f  passlonato. 
STRINGS  AND  BRASS. 

r*  I     ! 


led  in  lower  bass.) 


But,  through  the  melodious  woof,  on  goes 
the  actual  fugue  of  the  motive  of  the  first  three 
bars.  For  immediately,  in  the  midst  of  the  tune, 
the  motto  answers  its  last  entrance  in  the  bass 
with  another,  redoubled  in  time,  in  neighboring 
key  of  low  wood,  straightway  followed  in  the 
original  tone  on  high.  Subtly  pervasive  is  this 
underlying  legend,  but  so  subtle  that,  while 
feeling,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  see  it  with  con- 
scious eyes.  To  be  sure,  it  now  ceases  during 
the  lesser  tunes  and  second  theme,  but  this  pro- 
327 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

found  view-point  is  the  rare  symphonic  quality, 
wider,  bigger,  saner  than  much  of  romantic 
rhapsody. 

Equally  with  the  jolting  rhythm  is  the  rude  jar 
of  sudden  harmonic  change  ;  beginning  in  clear- 
est white  light  of  major  tone,  it  plunges  the  next 
step  into  dark,  cloudy  minor,  and  so  it  climbs 
the  Parnassian  height  through  quick  varying 
tonal  hue.  There  is  a  sense  of  ploughing 
through  heavy  waves  of  resistance  with  jolting 
motion,  listing  now  here,  now  there,  up  in  the 
bright  sun,  down  in  dark  depths ;  but  it  does 
come  to  a  gentle  haven,  though  ever  with  a  cer- 
tain heaviness  of  gait,  never  a  smooth  grace, 
until  the  next  tune,  which  hums  for  the  nonce 
like  lullaby : 


(Melody  in  strings.) 


Quickly,  however,  rushing  to  a  climax,  it  changes 
the  tonal  light,  and  sings  again  from  a  new 
quarter.  There  is  no  return  to  boisterous  theme, 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

— a  line  or  so  of  sighing  strings  with  soothing 
wood,  and  then,  still  in  remote  tonal  scene,  here 
is  the  real  second  theme,  a  song  most  sweetly 
quaint  and  appealing,  almost  plaintive  : 


(Melody  in  clarinet  and  bassoons.) 


(Rhythm  in  strings. 


with  a  swing  (of  4)  that  is  not  dainty  nor  awk- 
ward, but  seems  in  one  moment  the  one,  in  the 
next  the  other  ;  is  certainly  na'ive,  —  novel  yet 
natural  ;  on  the  whole,  gives  the  spontaneous 
song  a  tinge  of  slow  dance.  The  rare  charm 
of  the  song  is  blended  of  limping  basses  of 
strings  and  of  a  high  note  of  flute  piping  in  at 
oddest  moments. 

The  verse  is  repeated  with  some  change  of 
parts  in  the  voices  and  with  the  same  gay  over- 
flowing of  cadence.  Now  the  inverted  first  strain 
of  the  verse  is  sung  through  succeeding  hues  of 
tonal  light,  straying  far  away  and  suddenly 
329 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 


coming  home  again  into  the  original  tone,  where 
above  the  lower  melody  is  a  pretty  bit  of  phrase, 
descending  to  meet  the  rising  tune  : 


-^ 


STRINGS. 


Here  is  a  sudden  ominous  halt  of  placid  pace. 
In  sombre  tones  the  motto  intrudes  its  dread 
message,  followed  by  a  phase  of  light  flitting 
figures  above  and  below  that  are  most  mysterious : 


CLARINET. 


P   legg. 


dolce, 

-L- 


T 


(Quickened  motto  in  basses  of  strings  and  fagots.) 
330 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

All  of  Brahms  is  much  more  detailed,  minute, 
than  any  other  master.  Broad  lines  there  are 
and  pervading;  but  they  pervade  as  arabesque 
figures  entwined  in  obscure  plan.  Are  they  more 
in  artisan  or  workman  than  in  poet  phase*? 
However,  the  fact  that  they  are  not  reducible  to 
language  is  no  reason  against  or  for  their  great- 
ness. But  it  is  strange  how,  after  Mozart,  sym- 
phonies rushed  to  a  more  defined  stage  of  intense 
content  and  romantic  message,  and  then  reacted 
completely.  The  reaction  of  Brahms  is  not 
merely  from  Schumann  or  Schubert ;  it  is  the 
reaction  even  from  Beethoven.  Thus,  to  show 
the  minute  process :  in  this  difficult  phase  of  the 
symphony,  before  repetition  of  themes,  the  sense 
of  arpeggio  figure,  of  harp-like  descending 
chords,  haunts  us  with  a  dim  sense  of  relevance 
which  is  most  difficult  to  realize.  To  be  sure, 
in  one  sense  an  arpeggio  chord  is  always  relevant 
(like  an  adjournment),  especially  in  mere  pointing 
of  the  harmony.  But  it  must  be  more  than  this 
in  a  melodic  voice.  Our  first  search  gropes  to 
the  second  theme,  whose  cadence  breaks  into 
falling  tones  of  a  chord.  But  this  cannot  be  the 
source.  We  feel  with  the  sudden  change  of 
hue  (and  the  ominous  motto)  a  total  break  from 
331 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

the  chain  of  melody ;  we  must  go  further  back 
for  the  trace. 

,  Arpeggio,  the  harp-like  ripple  of  chord,  is  itself 
a  sign  or  touch  of  the  primeval.  It  is  one  of 
the  unconscious  traits  of  Brahms  in  all  his  music. 
Throughout  lesser  figures  we  see  it — too  humble 
for  mention.  .If  we  go  to  the  theme  itself,  the 
main  subject,  what  is  it  but  an  arpeggio  *?  Re- 
membering now  Brahms'  way  of  doubling  and 
redoubling  the  pace  of  his  ideas,  augmenting 
and  diminishing,  every  arpeggio  gains  a  new  mean- 
ing, a  special  relation  to  the  subject  to  which  it 
is  akin,  so  that  our  phase  with  motto  (redoubled) 
below  and  arpeggio  above  is  all  part  of  the 
fibre  of  the  central  idea.  The  phrase  here 
seems  to  get  an  added  fitness  as  a  guise  in 
quicker  notes,  still  of  the  shortened  motto,  that 
is  moving  below  and  about.  Even  when  all 
resemblance  of  outline  is  gone,  the  quick  change 
of  harmony  at  each  big  step  breathes  the  same 
air  of  ominous  harmonic  suspense  of  the  first 
two  bars. 

We  understand  now  better  the  meaning  of  the 
interruption  of  second  theme, — as  a  return  to  the 
motto,  of  which,  we  remark,  the  full  phrase  has 
four  notes : 

332 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 


so  that  the  first  sounds  of  the  symphony  are 
not  the  whole,  but  a  motto  of  the  motto,  a  spirit 
of  the  essence. 

It  is  the  melodious  texture,  the  perfection  of 
big  design  and  small,  that  make  the  art  of 
Brahms  sublime.  Such  absolute  honesty  of  ful- 
filment can  come  only  from  great  thought.  The 
world  cannot  withstand  the  insistent  evidence  of 
this  workmanship.  One  feels  as  if  the  sacred 
verse,  "  He  that  is  faithful  in  a  very  little  .  .  .  ," 
were  meant  specially  for  art.  It  is  the  perfection 
and  correlation  of  the  smallest  details  that  make 
the  greatest  art.  Of  course,  it  is  not  done  as  toil 
— that  must  not  be  forgotten  ;  the  spontaneous 
thought  alone  brings  on  exultant  flow  the 
perfect  utterance.  But  the  patient  toil  has  gone 
before  in  student  years,  and  by  slow  labor  has 
tested  the  right  spirit,  the  spirit  that  learns  all 
thoroughly  before  it  teaches. 

The  quicker  figure  is  pulsing  down  in  high 
wood,  while  from  below  slower  notes  stride  up<- 
ward.  There  is  a  long  discussion,  misty,  until 
we  see  quicker  forms  of  the  motto  rising  like 

333 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

spirits  of  the  legend  all  about,  while  against  them 
are  gentle  cascades  of  harp-like  tones  in  the 
wood,  interlacing  the  whole.  Still,  as  the 
shadowy  discussion  continues  through  cadences 
that  are  ever  nearing  the  first  tone,*  while  the 
motto  is  rising  here  and  there  in  vapory  figures, 
the  quicker  descending  phrase  has  become  more 
definite.  The  gentle  cascades  which  come  trick- 
ling down  in  the  wood,  above  the  phantoms  of 
the  motto,  are  seen  to  be  of  the  closing  phrase 
of  second  theme.  So,  in  a  way,  are  united  the 
ominous  hue  of  motto  with  gentler  grace  of 
second  melody.  The  whole  statement  ends  in 
triumphant  coursing  of  final  phrase  in  over- 
whelming climax,  not  only  of  first  theme,  but  of 
the  whole  integral  texture  of  the  vital  thought 
of  the  movement. 

After  the  repeat,  the  shorter  motto  first  still 
strides  noisily  about,  descending  as  well  as  ascend- 

*  Tone  is  here  used  in  its  true,  complete  sense,  embracing 
with  a  note  or  sound  its  whole  tonality.  It  is,  too,  histori- 
cally, the  original  conception,  when  there  were  no  chords  of 
simultaneous  sounds  to  reinforce  tonality.  It  is  a  concep- 
tion harder  to  realize  as  we  are  removed  from  the  old  epoch 
of  single-toned  music  ;  but  it  makes  for  the  true  meaning  of 
«'  Gregorian  tones"  and  Church  modes. 
334 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 


ing  through  rough  changes  of  tone,  until,  in  a 
remote  minor,  a  changed  form  of  the  second 
theme  appears. 

(Upper  figure  in  four  8ves   of  woodwind,  the  next  lower  in 
two  8ves  of  strings. ) 


f     F  f 

( Repeated  with 
new  ending.) 


(Lowest  figure  doubled  in  basses  of  strings.) 
(See  page  334,  line  15.) 

We  must  be  prepared  in  our  latest  master  for 
a  disguise  of  themes  more  occult  by  far  even 
than  the  subtleties  of  Mozart's  "  Jupiter"  Sym- 
phony. Inverted,  augmented,  or  diminished  in 
pace,  changed  in  harmony,  the  same  virtual  idea 
somehow  resides,  brought  out  the  more  by  varia- 
tion and  wrought  out  to  higher  meaning  and 
conclusion  by  the  life  of  the  discussion. 

So  we  plunge  through  a  clash  of  guises  of 
the  motto  into  a  new  phase  of  second  theme, — 
no  longer  sweet-humored, — in  sombre,  almost 
gloomy  minor  of  low  basses,  the  old  quaint  step 
gone — instead,  a  pace  of  anxious,  eager  striving, 

335 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

with  here  and  now  a  gleam  of  delusive,  ephem- 
eral sweetness  of  major.  Now  eager  strings 
take  up  the  agitated  song.  All  trace  of  the  old 
quality  is  gone ;  but  outwardly  it  is  the  same 
figure,  and  it  ends,  as  before,  with  chain  of  ca- 
dences seeking  a  familiar  tonal  home.  But  the 
solace  of  sweet  close  is  not  there.  Instead,  by 
timid,  halting  steps  we  meet — a  surprise :  to 
smooth  humming  motion  of  strings  the  horns 
sound  the  motto  in  a  new  form  of  beauty : 

(Th«me  in  horns,  e stress.) 


16 


t.  r- 

[  (Bass 


Bass  doubled  below.) 


(Strings  pulsing  in  -L  rhythm  of  the  harmony.) 

with  new  swing,  with  moving  tenderness.  It  is 
as  if  the  melodies  had  exchanged  humors.  The 
sweetly  quaint  second,  in  sad  distress,  is  consoled 
by  a  new  soothing  strength  of  the  erst  ominous 
motto,  and  is  followed  with  the  same  cheer  of 
oboes. 

Through  untroubled  cadence  we  come  to  a 
mysterious  strain  of  first  theme,  soon  darkening 
in  hue  of  minor,  in  various  figures  gliding  down 
336 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

in  shadowy  chase,  suddenly  broken  by  the  motto, 
as  at  first,  heralding  the  main  theme  in  full  force 
and  stirring  freshness,  and  yet  ever  entwined  with 
the  dim  sombre  motive  sounding  below  or  hover- 
ing above,  which  it  throws  off  in  the  clearer  ca- 
dence. Then,  as  before,  to  more  human,  appeal- 
ing, lesser  melody,  to  distant  tonal  scene;  again  the 
sigh  of  wood  echoed  by  low  strings ;  now  the 
full  former  grace  and  quaint  charm  of  second 
theme  with  strange  halting  dance.  Once  more 
the  chain  of  cadent  phrases,  through  prism  of 
colors,  and  finally  home  again  to  sweetly  con- 
cluding strain  in  reversed  melody.  In  breaks  the 
motto,  as  before,  and  the  dual  phrases  of  themal 
fragments,  so  dim  of  origin,  the  quicker  theme 
ascending,  the  arpeggios  trickling  down  to  meet 
the  theme  and  crossing  each  other.  For  a  time 
the  latter  gain  the  mastery ;  but  the  true  climax 
is  again  reached  with  motto  figures  rising  from 
the  depth  of  strings  while  the  harp  phrase  ex- 
tends to  more  definite  theme,  which  seems  to 
have  a  dim  relation  to  all  others,  and  a  clear  one 
to  none,  though,  mainly,  it  is  of  the  text  of  the 
motto.  In  final  verse  comes  the  main  theme 
in  bright  array,  motto  and  all.  Losing  the 
gloomy  sense  of  change,  of  human  vicissitude, 
22  '  337 


BRAHMS'   THIRD  SYMPHONY 

it  is  transfigured   to    one   of  steadily  coursing 

The  stress  on   a  former  brief  figure   of  the 
subject 

(Strings,  air  doubled  above.) 


Wl 


is   now  all  brilliant  with  victory.     The  ending 
phrase,  also  from  the  first  verse  of  main  melodv : 


f    f 


comes  in  fervent  climax,  with  a  new  conclusive 

breadth  and  relevance,  subtly  sealing  all  former 

<ioubts.     There  is,  too,  a  new  turn  at  the  end  of 

338 


BRAHMS'   THIRD  SYMPHONY 


intimate   strain,   in    cradling   swing, — a   human 
touch  before  the  last  lay  of  fateful  legend. 

The  Andante  is  in  the  simple  classic  vein  hal- 
lowed by  rare  masters,  that  fearlessly  begins  in 
full  tonic  chord :  stable,  absolute,  not  wavering  nor 
yearning;  not  at  all  romantic;  settled,  assured 
in  placid  repose  :  childlike  and  ingenuous.  Beauty 
is  foremost, — spontaneity  is  evident  rather  than 
intensity  of  message.  And  there  is  ever  a  sweet 
echoing  cadence  in  deep  brown  of  low  strings : 


Andante. 


FAGOTS,  p  semplice. 


(Added  flutes  and  horns.) 

4 


r 


(Echoing  strings. 


339 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

Everywhere  is  the  frugal  economy  of  highest  art 
and  soundest,  purest  thought. 

In  placid  assurance  of  beauty  the  melody  runs 
on  with  ever  echoed  cadence  from  resonant  depths 
of  the  basses.  With  the  finite  quality  of  a  tune, 
it  yet  spins  along  as  in  easy  narrative,  coming 
soon  to  climax  of  spontaneous  though  well- 
restrained  fervor,  an  utterance  that1  betrays  as 
high  a  state  of  serene  bliss  as  is  known  to  mortal. 
The  first  strain  of  the  lyric  dwells  and  ends  in  the 
home  tone,  neighbor  to  that  of  the  first  Allegro. 
The  second  gently  glides  into  the  abutting  key, 
the  nearest  resting-place.  Thence  it  roams  ever 
to  farther  limits,  but  suddenly  swings  through 
moving  climax  home  again.  Now  the  tune 
turns  towards  the  region  on  the  farther  side  with 
inverted  answer,  but  quickly  takes  refuge  once 
more  in  the  main  tone. 

The  melody  now  puts  on  a  graceful  ornament 
that  enriches,  but  not  disguises  her  individual 
beauty.  To  be  sure,  it  is  a  mere  phrase,  a  special 
glimpse  of  the  first  friendly  strain  that  we  catch 
here  and  there ;  then  another,  its  answer,  that 
looms  up  through  the  shifting  tonal  light  in 
dim  minor.  The  two  strains,  indeed,  sing  a  duet 
of  gloom  and  cheer  until  the  former  vanishes, 

34° 


BRAHMS'  THIRD   SYMPHONY 


and  the  sombre  call  is  heard  far  down  in  basses, 
ever  descending  in  darker  depth.  \Vhence 
emerges  a  song  of  the  same  fibre  in  clarinet  and 
fagot,  in  plaintive  appeal,  taken  up  by  horn  and 

(Clarinets  doubled  in  lower  fagots.)      ."^. 
J 


V      -&• 

flute.  As  they  end  in  mournful  cadence,  the 
neglected  strings  enter  with  new  human  note  of 
soothing  appeal : 


With  no  outer  relation,  it  is  the  meaning  of 
essential,  intrinsic  contrast  of  answering  solace. 
Taken  up  by  wood,  and  carried  on  by  strings 
with  further  answer  in  the  wood,  the  whole  is  a 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

melodic  poem  of  its  own,  with  just  the  quality 
lacking  in  the  main  verse,  a  touch  of  intimate 
romance  gliding  in  hushed  groping  through  dim 
changing  tones  to  the  first  theme.  But  this  has 
caught  some  of  the  personal  quality  as  it  moves 
in  low  strings,  while  the  higher  hover  in  wavering 
suit  above. 

The  charm  of  placid  pace,  in  Brahms,  is 
greatly  helped  by  a  new  cunning  of  richly 
varied  rhythm.  In  the  interweaving  of  two 
waving  strains  that  differ  in  the  pulse  of  smallest 
beat  (where  one  has  two,  the  other  three)  there  is 
a  gentle  clash,  a  wealth  of  trembling  motion, 
with  all  serenity  of  separate  voices.  The  melody, 
too,  is  more  of  song ;  leaves  the  staid  periods 
and  soars  freely  through  urgent,  even  passionate, 
sequence  of  the  first  phrase,  losing  in  its  romantic 
guise  most  of  the  earlier  semblance ;  and  so 
through  fresh  tonal  scene  : 

(Violins,  doubled  belonv  in  fagots.) 


cres.  (Violas,  doubled  below  in  cellos.) 

But  soon  the  answering  motive  appears  as  be- 
fore and  rears  a  strong  climax,  and  brings  us 
342 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

gradually  to  the  impersonal  humor  of  the  first 
melody. 

In  the  free  play  of  initial  motive,  we  notice 
the  kinship  even  of  this  phrase  with  the  former 
answer,*  until  it  seems  that  Brahms  is  all  built 
on  the  atomic  plan,  where  the  whole  can  be 
dissected  to  one  bit  or  motive  of  central  thought. 
This  is  wonderfully  true  of  his  Second  Symphony. 

Here  the  last-quoted  phrase  in  its  rhythmic 
and  harmonic  variations  betrays  this  basic  unity, 
—finally  strikes  the  first  melody,  in  whimsical 
rhythmic  change  of  original  motive  : 

•    (Woodwind,  doubled  above  and  below.) 


express,  ma  dolce. 
(Chords  in  brass ;  obligato  of  i  notes  In  strings.) 

Again  the  glorious  classic  grace  of  Melian 
Venus.  Instead  of  the  old  echoes  of  low  strings, 
the  clarinets  -answer  in  spirited  strain.  Indeed, 
the  whole  has  now  a  more  glowing  air  of  trans- 
figured beauty  and  more  fervent  freedom  of 
utterance.  At  the  end  of  the  tune  comes  the 
epilogue, — if  that  can  come  before  the  last  verse 
or  last  act.  Freed  from  staid  pace,  swinging  aloft 

*  Seepage  339. 
343 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

on  the  last  bit  of  cadence  to  bold  Gothic  heights, 
it  seems  to  translate  the  cold  classic  grace  to  our 
warmer  Teuton  sense,  and  then  commend  to  us  a 
final  verse  of  the  poem. 

Third  Movement.  The  second  movement  is 
certainly  the  reflective, — that  is,  it  has  least  of  the 
dance.  In  this  sense  the  second  and  the  third  are 
directly  opposed.  The  third  has  a  distinct  dance 
swing, — not  merely  the  rhythm  of  all  music. 

But  what  does  this  mean  to  us,  if  it  is  not 
merely  a  technical  matter  ?  It  is  this :  all  dances 
are  national, — of  here  or  there :  Hungarian, 
Teutonic,  Celtic,  or  Slavic.  The  dance  is 
opposed  to  the  pure  lyric  of  Andante.  It  is 
necessarily  ingenuous ;  ih  a  sense,  it  lacks  mood, 
or,  at  least,  consciousness  of  mood.  In  a  way, 
it  has  not  the  element  of  individuality  for  true 
mood, — the  national  sense  prevents. 

This  element  is  a  function  of  the  third  move- 
ment  more  than  any  other.  It  is  naturally  the 
usual  channel  of  humor  ;  but  it  need  not  be.  A 
dance  need  not  be  merry.  The  sarabande  is  a 
type  almost  of  pathos ;  the  minuet,  of  stately 
grace.  The  most  tender  vein  may  steal  into  the 
Trio  of  dance,  old  or  new,  as  of  a  Bach  ga- 
votte. A  certain .  barcarolle  feeling  has  here  a 

344 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

special  place.  It  must  be  unreflective,  of  folk  or 
national  rather  than  of  individual  hue. 

If  the  third  movement  is  looked  to  for  humor, 
it  is  certainly  not  found  here,  in  spite  of  the  tempo 
poco  allegretto.  In  this  respect,  of  strict  category 
of  mood  each  in  place,  this  symphony  is  out  of 
the  reckoning.  It  is  possible  we  may  find  a 
humor  elsewhere,  and  thus  make  good  the  appar- 
ent lack.  We  must  not  forget  that  the  third 
movement  was  of  old  a  dance,  that  the  dance 
became  the  national  channel  for  pure  merriment 
or  profounder  mirth.  Technically,  the  dance  is 
ever  in  place. 

It  is  possible  that  the  scherzo  is  too  rigidly  an 
element  of  symphony.  We  have  seen  Mendels- 
sohn miss  a  footing  here.  The  scherzo  was  Bee- 
thoven's own  typical  creation.  It  suited  his  special 
humor  far  more  than  Schubert's.  Indeed,  there  is 
no  subjective  humor  of  musician  to  compare  with 
Beethoven's,  save  Schumann's,  and  even  with  the 
latter  the  profound  sardonic  element  is  wanting. 

There  is  no  doubt  that,  from  the  traditional 
point,  humor  is  wanting  in  this  symphony  of 
Brahms,  and  not  merely  negatively.  All  but 
the  Andante  are  overcast  with  sombre  clouds. 
Serenity  is  confined  to  the  second  movement. 

345 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

Here  in  the  Allegretto,  with  all  lagging 
motion,  the  step  of  slow  dance  is  somewhat 
strongly  marked  with  a  beat  of  the  foot  that 
has  something  of  the  German  Landler,  again 
something  of  Slavonic  in  the  late  deferred 
accent : 


(Strings,  aided  lightly  by  flutes  and  fagots.) 


But  the  gloom  is  thick  overhead,  and  leaves  but 

a  shadow  of  the  dance;   even  in   the   second 

melody,  where   for  a  moment  we  hope  for  a 

346 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 


sunnier  light,  we  have  at  most  the  odd  shifting 
mood  of  first  Allegro  : 


VIOLINS. 


CELLOS. 


(With  waving  strings  and  sustaining  woodwind.) 

To  be  sure,  after  the  friendly  sequence  there  is 
suddenly  a  cheerful  intimate  descent  in  neigh- 
boring key  of  major,  merely  to  be  hurried 
again  into  the  fatalism  of  first  theme,  now 
sung  with  more  poignant  feeling  by  all  the 
treble  voices.  But  in  the  third  is  a  change 
of  mood.  Still  in  the  old  uncertain  humor, 
there  is  much  more  of  joy  and  trust,  though 
of  a  timid  kind,  in  the  melody  with  its  delicate 
hesitancy,  with  just  a  faint  reminder  of  dance 
in  the  pace : 

(Clar.  doubled  above  in  flutes  ;  horns  and  other  woodwind.) 

N 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 


This  vanishes  completely  in  a  kind  of  postscript 
of  the  tune,  where  all  formality  of  swaying  dance 
is  dropped  in  direct  tender  appeal,  crowned  with 
fervent  climax  of  trustfulness.  To  be  sure,  in 
the  rehearsing  it  is  all  hushed  by  the  nearing 
gloom  of  the  first  tune.  We  have  heard  of  a 
Death's  dance.  Though  there  is  nothing  of  the 
kind  here,  there  is  yet  a  clear  tinge  of  doom,  of 
dim  Fate,  about  the  main  melody.  Once  more 
followed  by  the  second,  of  uncertain  hue,  the 
.  subject  ends  in  an  extended  appeal  of  moving 
pathos,  like  a  last  burst  for  deliverance,  with  a 
final  resignation. 

Last  Movement.  Our  symphony  is  thus  so 
burdened  with  stern  gloom  that  we  shall  need  a 
strong  balance  of  cheer.  Humor  seems  ban- 
ished, dethroned  from  its  abode.  The  only  refuge 
is  the  Andante, — to  be  sure,  of  calm  serene  beauty 
and  assurance.  Even  there  we  saw  a  stress  of 
348 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

the  one  mournful  bit  of  the  main  tune,  and  out 
of  it  grew  the  sad  second.  Though  wavering 
long,  it  surely  settled  into  sweet  contentment. 
We  are  used  to  thinking  of  the  Andante  as  the 
true  key,  its  humor  as  the  final  mood,  leaving  to 
the  Allegros  a  more  tempestuous  utterance,  the 
first  in  achieving,  the  last  in  the  triumph. 

We  must  not  forget,  however,  that  in  our  first 
movement  uncertain  fitfulness  was  really  con- 
quered by  a  clear  spirit ;  the  minor  yielded  at  last 
to  the  major.  We  must  note,  too,  the  meaning 
of  the  alternation  in  mood  of  the  movements 
themselves,  sombre  allegretto  succeeding  serene 
andante. 

What,  then,  shall  we  make  of  this  barbarous 
war-tune,  ruthless  in  rough  minor,  that  is  softly 
growling  in  low  violins  and  bassoons  with  firm, 
rapid  step : 

(Unison  theme,  doubled  in  two  lower  8ves.) 
STRINGS  AND  FAGOTS. 

Allegro.  


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 


answered  in  equally  harsh  mode  and  grim,  halt- 
ing pace "? 

STRINGS 


higher  8ve. 


(Bass  doubled  in  lower  8ve.) 

It  is  certainly  all  o'ercast,  ill-boding  for  final 
cheer.  As  the  melody  soars  along  in  higher 
flight,  among  the  woodwind,  it  wings  a  freer 
course,  with  chance  pauses  that  give  new  and 
bolder  rhythm, — again  answered  haltingly.  Now 
follows,  in  strings  and  lower  wood,  a  phrase  in 
darkest  hues  of  minor-major,  with  still  a  tinge  of 
war-call  as  it  is  heralded  and  backed  by  hollow 
notes  of  low  brass : 

(Strings,  and  lower  woodwind  and  horns.) 


(Bass  doubled  in  lower  8ve.) 

Full  of  temper  as  it  is,  it  seems  no  integral 
element,  a  mere  chance  strain  between  verses  of 
35° 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 


the  theme,  a  certain  disputation  on  the  first, 
mainly  on  the  second  motive.  Here,  by  a  fine 
reversing  of  the  answer,  is  reared  upon  the  modest 
bass  a  powerful  climax,  where,  to  the  halting 
but  insistent  inquiry,  a  broad  conclusive  re- 
sponse comes  marching  down  in  double  hie 
from  the  heights : 

(Full  orchestra,  doubling  above  and  below.) 


~f         i-  f. 


(Continued  in  inverted  bass  and  treble.) 

And  here  is  the  heart  of  the  movement,  the  spot 
where,  conscious  striving  escaped,  a  direct  thought 
brings  best  melody  of  utterance.  Still  as  the  march 
is  kept  in  striding  basses,  and  violins  sound  lightly 

(Theme  in  strings,  wood  and  horns  doubled  below.) 


mf  pizz. 

(Rhythmic  pace  in  strings.) 
351 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 


a  constant  tremulous  call,  cellos  strike  a  cheery 
tune  in  curiously  new  swing,  strongly  and 
broadly  crossing  the  strict  stride  of  marching 
basses. 

All  in  bright  major  it  sings,  and  with  no  trace 
of  sombre  shadow.  As  the  air  now  reaches  high 
wood  arid  strings,  it  is  like  brilliant  sun  glittering 


(Strings,  reinforced  by  chords  of  wood  and  brass.) 
(See  page  353,  line  6.) 

on  marching  helmets  and  waving  plumes,  the 
352 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

vibrant  call  of  trumpets  still  distantly  blended  in 
the  war-song. 

And  the  tune  has  a  way  of  winding  through 
indefinite  turns,  like  constant  thread  of  story  or 
unending  line  of  warriors.  Presently  a  longer 
curve  of  cadence  appears,  and,  recurring,  soon 
presses  all  the  verses  into  its  unison  strain  in  full 
acclaim,  leading  into  a  second  big  climax  with 
similar  hammer-thuds : 


(All  but  the  low  brass.) 


(With  higher  8ve.) 
'|       ^ 


(Harmony  in  —  note  chords  of  the  wind.) 


ttr-  J  ±- 

-f  >•*  — 

l 

bl      ^^ 
^    * 
v-  —  „ 

—  f—  *0-*  — 

,  n 

~^—  = 

353 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 


that  grew  in  earlier  crisis  out  of  the  answer  of 
main  theme.  Indeed,  throughout,  the  first 
motive  of  the  theme  gives  melodic  fibre ;  the 
second  or  answer  is  bone  of  contention,  meat  of 
discussion.  But  in  the  last  climax  we  seem  to 
see  the  new-gotten  phrase  stealing  over  the  bass 
in  big  broad  notes.  There  is,  to  be  sure,  a  new 
thud  of  accent  on  the  second  beat,  'mid  richer 


(Full  orchestra.^ 


(With  higher  8ve  as  before.) 


(With  lower  8ves  of  -1-  notes.) 


setting  of  low  tonal  background,  with  new  swing 
of  blows.  But  presently  the  old  stress  on  first 
and  third  re-enters  in  response.  At  the  height  of 
battle  a  quick  phrase  of  former  bits,  doubled  in 
speed,  relieves  the  strain. 

Once  again  the  battle  rages  to  the  inspiring 

height,  and   again,  on  quicker  phrases,  tempers 

down  to  a  semblance  of  first  theme  in  distant 

tonal  quarter, — but  merely  for  a  moment,  min- 

354 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 


gled  with  other  war-cries.  Here,  again,  is  a 
rough  snatch  of  it ;  there,  high  in  woodwind,  a 
lengthened  call  of  its  first  notes.  At  last  the 
strife  simmers  down  to  the  original  tune  in  the 
wood,  all  in  the  hush  of  twilight ;  and  now 
beautiful  is  the  answer,  transformed  in  gait,  in 
speed,  and  in  mood.  Almost  prayer-like  the 
former  trip  now  sounds  in  solemn  choral  notes 
with  hopeful  calls  : 


STRINGS.     (Horns,  and  wood  in  two  higher  8ves.) 


(Bass  an  8ve  lower.) 


And  the  main  tune  goes  playfully  whisper- 
ing on,  with  varying  tricks  of  accompanying 
figures,  that  somehow  take  away  the  old  sting 
and  gloom.  Again  the  solemn  cheer  of  answer ; 
now  the  latter  sings  as  new  song  high  in  the 
wood,  while  low  violins,  like  fire-flies,  are  darting 
here  and  there  with  chance  snatches  of  the  sub- 
ject. The  light  is  mysterious,  flickering  'twixt 
gloom  and  cheer.  Suddenly  high  strings  loudly 
355 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 


sound  the  solemn  strain,  and  high  wood  ring  out 
the  quicker  snatches : 

(Oboes  and  flutes.) 


J- 


(Bass  irt  lower  8ve.) 

each  alternating  with  lowest  voices  of  opposite 
group.  The  hymn  gains  a  new  stride  of  march, 
with,  too,  the  continuous  turn  of  new  sequence; 
the  quick  snatch  becomes  threatening  blast  of 
trumpet. 

At  this  nodal  point  two  sustained  tones  ring 
out  alone  of  the  hymn,  dimly  familiar,  while, 
below,  strings  are  coursing 

ben  marc. 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

on  a  figure  that  seems  a  quick  mockery  of  an 
earlier  slower  one.  Then,  broadly  across  the 
quick  woof  of  their  motion,  here  is  the  solemn 
second  theme,  which  we  thought  to  have  dis- 
missed. It  is  all  a  new  poetic  guise  of  ancient 
round  of  tunes. 

Of  significant  charm  is  the  comfortable  con- 
flict of  these  two  paces,  the  quick  triplet  playing 
about  the  big  broad  skip  of  second  tune,  like 
a  great  mountain  seen  through  the  laced  veil 
of  fleeting  mists.  So  slowly  ponderous  is  the 
quaint  jog  of  the  tune  that  we  do  not  at  first 
feel  the  outline,  which  all  recurs  as  long  before, 
save  more  freely  extended  in  rhythm  and  in 
sequence  of  tonal  scenes,  all  brighter  than 
before,  finally  transfigured  with  blazing  halo 
of  dazzling  scene  and  crowned  with  all-cheering 
close. 

Here 'is  the  same  rearing  of  climax  on  the 
insistent  inquiry  of  halting  fragment,  again  with 
the  broad  conclusive  response  marching  down  in 
double  file.  Only  it  is  all  more  assured  and  ex- 
ulting. The  main  theme  no  longer  steals  softly 
into  the  midst,  but  boldly  rings  out  on  eminent 
heights.  Besides,  there  is  the  reversing  of  tonal 
scenes,  the  clear  return  homeward  towards  the 

357 


BRAHMS'  THIRD   SYMPHONY 

original  regions.  This  is  best  marked  by  the 
swinging,  brilliant  war-song,  which  again  comes 
marching  past  with  the  old  glittering  maze  of 
movement  and  ever  surer  air  of  victory.  It  ends, 
as  before,  with  a  long  curve  of  cadence,  and 
leads  again  to  the  climax  of  hammer-blows. 
The  whole  battle  is  fought  once  more,  and  again, 
on  reaching  the  heights  with  a  fragment,  sim- 
mers down  to  the  whole  of  main  melody 
in  mysterious  light,  and,  strangely,  in  the 
quaint  jog  of  third  tune.  Soon  it  reaches  a 
more  familiar  spot,  and  here,  amid  the  same 
richer  setting  of  background,  is  that  freer  flight 
of  the  melody,  pausing  at  chance  will,  as  of 
old. 

But  the  setting  is  infinitely  richer,  of  deep 
beauty  of  wood-sounds,  and  there  is  a  sense,  in 
the  melodic  flight,  of  work  done  and  reward  well 
teamed.  The  strife  is  all  o'er.  From  this  point 
the  whole  mood  is  changed  ;  the  feeling  is  strong 
t//  fulfilment,  of  transfigured  purpose.  Quicker 
phrases  are  merely  the  placid,  subdued  company 
of  nature-sounds  attending  the  final  conclusive 
refrain  and  assertion  of  theme,  now  past  conten- 
tion. 

So  the  main  melody  now  enters,  losing  its  old 
358 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

speed,  like  chorale  hymri,  with  soft  tenderness, 
ending  with  a  higher  strain  of  new,  serene  confi- 
dence. As  the  theme  mutters  again  in  low  bass, 
— now  a  little  faster, — echoed  in  high  wood,  a 
strain  of  ancient  melody 


(Motto  in  oboes.) 


(Theme  in  horns  and  cellos.) 


gives  sweetly  comforting  answer.  It  is  the  motto 
of  the  big  beginning  of  the  symphony,  cleared 
of  turbid  gloom,  in  simple  soothing  conclusion. 
The  rest  seems  a  mere  dying  away  of  the  trem~ 
bling  nature-sounds,  though  there  are  pauses  of 
solemn  chords,. and  here  is  a  strain  in  slow  trip 
that  soars  aloft  with  strong  appeal.  We  had  not 
thought  there  was  in  our  second  melody  of  dark- 
est hues  such  a  potency  of  sweetness  and  light. 
Still  the  pausing  chords  come.  And  now  the 
same  strain  descends  from  its  lofty  perch. 
Though  full  of  solace,  it  somehow  has  in  the 

35$ 


BRAHMS'   THIRD   SYMPHONY 

very  end  a  clear  tinge  of  the  same  flickering 
mood  we  saw  at  the  beginning  of  the  whole 
work,  and  the  same  oscillation  of  light  is  kept  as 
the  basses  still  mutter  the  theme  through  the  whis- 
pering branches,  until  all  dies  away  in  the  clear 
brightness  of  original  tone.  The  constant  dual 
strife  ends  in  serene  rest. 


360 


BRAHMS'  FOURTH   SYM- 
PHONY 

^  I  AHE  fourth  of  Brahms'  symphonies  stands 
JL  opposed  to  the  others.  It  has  less  of  the 
subtle  interweaving  of  basic  motive.  It  seems 
more  of  a  return  to  romanticism,  freer  in  scheme 
and  spirit ;  motion  is  an  element  more  than  intri- 
cate design.  The  harmony,  or  organic  character, 
is  less  of  visible  figures,  however  obscure.  Arter 
all,  the  reappearance  of  actual  motto  is  not  the 
only  test  of  unity,  however  minute  the  phrase 
may  be.  There  may  be  most  intimate  harmony 
by  reason  of  the  relation  or  contrast  purely  of 
the  moods  of  the  movement.  In  a  way  it  is 
like  chemical  and  mechanical  structure.  You 
may  start  any  mechanical  separation  and  ap- 
proach the  chemical  solution  in  the  sense  of 
smallest  particles ;  but  you  will  never  reach  the 
final  constituents.  So  it  may  be  the  best  sym- 
phonic connection  is  an  invisible  one,  an  inner 
relation  of  mood-purpose. 

We  are  struck  with  the  pre-eminent  motion 
361 


BRAHMS'    FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

of  the  first  Allegro  (non  troppo).  It  is  like  getting 
into  a  vehicle  that  instantly  is  going  its  delight- 
ful pace  of  speedy  journey.  The  actual  tune  is 
secondary : 

(Theme  doubled  in  lower  8ves.) 


(STRINGS,  WOOD  AND  HORNS. 


In  fact,  the  tune  lacks  rhythmic  variation,  and 
leaves  the  motion  supreme  with  mere  tinge  of 
air.  It  is,  indeed,  less  tune  than  motion,  a  thread 
of  movement  that  becomes  more  melodic  as  it 
proceeds,  works  itself  into  song,  —  a  musical  story 
with  special  episodes. 

After  the  first  period,  the  last  cadence  suggests 
the  variation  of  theme  in  the  second,  with  more 
fluent  note  throughout.  Towards  the  end,  a  jerk 
of  notes,  from  close  of  main  tune,  has  much  sway  : 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 


gets  into  the  bass,  goes  jolting  through  the  whole 
chorus,  is  softened  by  prettily  rustling  lower  figure. 
A  firm,  assuring  conclusion  : 


STRINGS. 


UUL4 

d 1 1 — i \- 


A 


i= 

/*  -^qr-*-^r|- 


moving  in  its  fervor,  leads  suddenly  to  the  start- 
ling second  melody,  of  bold,  broad,  rhythmic 
curve,  that  we  have  a  way  of  finding  in  Brahms : 


/"  matcato.          3 
(Woodwind,  doubled  in  lower  8ves.) 

A  breezy  air  of  resolution  is  here,  not  the 
usual  episode  of  feminine  grace  that  is  almost 
traditional  in  the  second  subject  of  Allegro^  so 
that  the  beginning  is  but  a  setting  in  motion  to- 
wards the  more  incisive  theme.  Again  there  is 
a  sharp  jerking  motive,  which  goes  driving  along 
between  the  lines  of  the  smoother,  sustained  an- 
363 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 


swer,  that  first  sounds  in  cellos,  then  climbs  to  the 
heights  and  holds  sway  in  treble  violins : 


fer 


(Strings  doubled 
harmony  in  wood 


aatfyfj 


while  the  bouncing  motive  stirs  the  foam  of  the 
stream  of  song  and  returns  to  the  bold  swing  ot 
second  melody,  knocking  its  uncouth  rhythm 
against  the  regular  beat,  and  crashing  its  relentless 
harmonies  against  the  prevailing  basic  scheme : 


TUTTI. 


=* 


*/- 


ffl 


(Bass  doubled  below.) 

all  an  utterance  of  resistless  stress,  seeking  and 
needing  obstacles  for  true  progress. 
364 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 


The  hostile  tide  exhausted,  the  stream  runs 
pelting  on  in  the  current  of  the  evener  pace 
(answered  between  the  choirs)  :  . 

(Strings,    wood  ;    in  constant  alternation.) 


(Doubled  in  two  lower  8ves.) 

which  takes  us.  back  with  strange  reminder  to 
the  very  beginning  ot  the  first  tune,  and  knits 
all  together  in  onward  drive  of  action.  Again, 
all  is  concluded  in  freer  singing  strain  (built 
still  on  the  jerking  motion)  : 

(Strings,  wood  and  horns  ;  tune  and  harmony  in  8ves.) 


( Bass  an  8ve  lower. ) 

but  standing  on  the  broad  swinging  rhythm  in 
triple  time  that  marks  the  boldness  of  second 
theme.  It  is  answered  by  a  strain  of  softer, 
more  appealing  hue  of  all,  in  more  mincing 

365 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 


(Clar.,  doubled  above  in  oboe,  and  below  in  horns.) 
-X  3  ^^ 


(Strings,  p  legg.  sustained  by  fagots.) 


pace  ;  but, .  broken  only  for  a  moment,  it  re- 
sumes and  leads  to  modest,  idyllic  bit  of  tune, 
like  violet  that  is  the  hidden  gem  of  the  woods : 


WOOD  AND  HORNS. 


STRINGS. 


366 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 


somehow  with  more  sweetness  than  all  the 
prouder  blossoms  of  song,  introduced  merely  by 
solemn  lull  of  wind,  dim  call  of  trumpets,  and 
mystic  swirl  of  strings.  After  the  same  cere- 
mony it  sings  again  bold  and  loud,  now  echoed 
by  firm  call  of  brass.  Apart  from  our  simile  it 
has  a  flavor  of  woods  in  its  haunting  notes. 

Now  it  rears  overpowering  climax,  tune  and 
call  all  sounding  together,  and  in  the  bass  the 
constant  stride  of  even  march,  until,  breaking 
again  into  the  jerking  pace,  we  return  through 
gradually  familiar  sounds  to  main  theme  as  at 
first.  The  woodland  call  has  a  beautiful  way  of 
coming  nearer,  stronger,  and  clearer  at  each  new 
verse,  and  each  time  in  a  new  light. 

Now  the  first  close  (of  main  melody)  has  a 
peculiar  charm  as  it  refuses  to  stray  again  to 
367 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

strange  scene,  nestling  intimately  about  the  home 
tone: 


(Strings,  with  sustaining  chords  in  horns  and  clarinets.) 


(Doubled  below  in  basses.) 

Pretty  variations  of  the  subject  sing  on,  which 
now  gambol  about  and  play  together. 

All  the  smaller  derived  phrases  show  more 
and  more  a  likeness  to  original  theme,  which  it 
were  dry  to  point  in  detail,  varying  in  speed  or 
changed  in  outline.  Again  the  sweet  nestling 
in  the  bosom  of  the  cadence,  to  be  sure,  of  re- 
moter tone. 

The  main  theme  now  assumes  the  guise  of  first 
conclusive  strain*  in  sombre  minor,  and  pres- 
ently rings  out  in  hammer-blows  the  varied  phrase 
(of  main  theme),  all  changed  from  mild  grace  to 
rude  quarrel  with  lower  voices  in  strings,  that 

*  See  page  363. 
368 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

come  up  in  contrary  figures,  all  of  brilliant 
countermarching  manoeuvre,  hostile  though  or- 
dered, while  the  jerking  motive  breaks  in  from 
above  in  high  wood  in  rough  contempt  of  other 
measure : 

STRINGS,  WOOD  AND  HORNS. 

x  '•>/•••;• 


Now  the  parties  in  the  strings  exchange  retorts. 
All  the  while  the  middle  voices  of  violas,  allied 
with  fagots,  have  echoed  on  the  heels  of  the 
theme,  wherever  they  heard  it.  So  the  great 
altercation  goes  on,  ever  with  new  alignment  of 
forces. 

Suddenly  a  hushed  semblance  of  second  theme 
is  whispered  in  strings,  a  mere  playful  phase,  the 
voices  in  low  strings  fleeing  in  fugual  chase  across 
the  scene.  Others  in  high  wood  pass  in  similar 
view,  now  against  deep  background  of  swirling 
*4  369 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

strings  with  the  former  solemn  pauses ;  vague 
bits  of  the  subject  are  dropped  in  the  wood, 
answering  in  new  tonal  scene.  Again  the  play- 
ful hushed  chase  in  the  wood  of  strains  of  the 
second  theme.  Now,  loud  and  fierce,  strings 
and  brass  shout  threatening  cries  in  the  tune  of 
the  gentle  hunting  call,  but,  through  it,  striving 
for  the  second  theme,  which  they  finally  reach 
and  answer  now  with  more  effective  strain : 


(In  woodwind  and  horns,  doubled  above  and  below.) 


(In  strings,  doubled  above  and  below.) 


with  the  broad  freedom  of  triplet  pace  which  is 
carried  along  in  other  voices  and  holds  its  rough 
course  in  spite  of  main  subject,  singing  in  ob- 
scure guise  in  even  rhythm.  Trie  answer,  with 
the  quicker  figure,  is  a  series  of  tonal  perches, 
alighting  ever  in  a  new  quarter  with  the  same 
hushed  motive : 

370 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 


Reaching  home  at  last,  the  little  motive  is 
lengthened  and  the  main  theme  is  heralded  in 
long  notes  as  of  motto,  interrupted  again  by  long 
pauses  of  chords  and  rich  swirling  strings. 

Brahms  has  a  tendency  to  make  us  see  bits  of 
the  theme  even  where  it  is  not,  like  seeing  the 
sun  with  closed  eyes  ;  you  hardly  know  where  to 
stop  deriving. 

The  whole  song  of  the  themes  begins  now,  as 
at  first,  save  at  the  very  beginning,  where  the 
first  motives  are  clearly  reversed, — as  if  to  show 
again  that  the  meat  is  in  the  movement,  not  in 
the  tune.  Conclusive  strain  comes  as  before,  but 
of  course  the  tonal  journey  is  homewards,  not 
afield.  This  must  always  be  the  difference  of 
the  first  and  last  parts  of  the  Allegro. 

The  design  of  the  whole  is  new;  we  have 
lost  our  old  order  of  themes  restated  and  dis- 


BRAHiMS'    FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

cussed  in  proper  places.  The  main  subject,  we 
have  seen,  flows  along  in  full  course,  doubling  as 
it  pleases,  leading  on  in  calm  progress  to  the 
stormier  second,  where  the  motion  of  the  first 
merely  helps  to  mass  the  climax  with  episodes 
of  bright  soaring  strain,  with  gentle  appealing 
answer  and  hushed  call  of  hunt,  broken  by  sol- 
emn pauses  with  swirling  strings.  As  the  call 
sounds  in  strong  blast,  the  main  crisis  is  reached 
on  the  text  of  the  virile  second  theme.  As  the 
first  returns,  its  own  special  crisis  now  arrives  on 
its  own  motives,  followed  by  a  lesser  on  the 
second.  Hence  a  short  blending  of  both  sub- 
jects leads  to  the  last  statement,  where  the  full 
climax  of  second  melody  is  not  allowed. 

We  cannot  but  note  the  difference  between 
the  Schumann  method  of  broad,  romantic  lines, 
mere  connection  by  contrast  and  intrinsic  rela- 
tion, and  Brahms'  minute  but  concrete  kinship 
of  contrapuntal  fragments  of  one  pattern.  This 
seems  like  a  new  plan  for  a  bigger  design,  of 
which,  maybe,  the  poet  is  to  come  later. 

The   whole   discussion    is    not   formal,   with 

duly  repeated  subjects.     Rather  it  seethes  in  the 

wake  of  each,  rising  to  a  climax  on  one  and 

then  on  the  other.     The  first,  instead  of  leader, 

372 


BRAHMS'    FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

is  often  rather  herald;  or  it  forms  placid  lulls 
between  the  storms  of  the  second,  though  to 
be  sure  it  has  its  determined  and  overpowering 
triumph. 

At  the  end,  indeed,  it  rises  after  lesser  crisis  of 
second  to  a  last  word  of  magnetic  virility  and 
convincing  power.  But,  before,  the  new  answer 
of  second  melody*  (the  first  has  lost  its  function 
in  the  later  stress)  has  a  moment  of  absolute  un- 
answerable sway. 

The  main  melody  then  asserts  dominance  in 
lordly,  stentorian  bass.  No  greater  musical  sym- 
bol is  there  of  complete  conquest  than  melodic 
possession  of  bass.  In  the  second  line  it  breaks 
into  uneven  pace  in  insolent  defiance.  A  new 
height  is  reached  on  the  short  jerk  of  motive. 
Twice  the  fine  old  conclusion  tries  its  envoi. 
But  still  echoes  and  hallooes  the  first  motive  of 
main  theme  in  a  frenzy  of  assertion,  and  the  bat- 
tle is  won. 

Ever  in  kind  of  rondo  fashion  returns  the  first 
melody ;  never,  as  in  sonata,  is  there  a  good 
cadence  on  the  second.  There  is  not  the  duality 
of  the  sonata.  It  is  the  monarchy  of  song  or 

*See  page  370. 
373 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

rondo,  one  prevailing  idea, — elg  xovpavog.  The 
second  theme,  however  powerful,  is  never  endur- 
ing, has  not  even  a  foothold  or  close  of  its  own, 
but  falls  back  to  the  firmer  footing  of  first ;  the 
stress  of  the  former  is  ever  resolved  in  the  resist- 
less, placid  motion  of  the  latter. 

Second  Movement.  It  is  a  frequent  way  of 
Brahms  to  come  through  gloom  and  desert  to 
light  and  cheer.  The  best  must  come  last ;  we 
must  begin  with  the  night  to  know  the  day ;  to 
fly  the  highest  you  must  start  the  lowest.  Here, 
in  andante  moderate,  the  strangest  sense  comes 
o'er  us  with  the  strain  of  horns : 


Andante  moderalo. 


f  HORNS. 


enforced  by  woodwind.  They  take  us  back  to 
darkest  edge  of  doom-tempered  world. 

As  curious  fact  the  tones  are  of  ancient  mode, 
not  merely  of  oldest  church  or  catacomb,  but  of 
Stoic  Greek  song,  Phrygian,  or  Doric. 

When  enter  the  clarinets,  the  gulf  is  sud- 
denly bridged,  the  gentle  strings  sing  the  same 
tune,  on  the  same  bass,  to  be  sure : 

374 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

(Melody  in  clarinets  and  pizz.  strings.) 


but  with  all  the  human  sweetness  that  since 
those  ancient  days  mankind  has  learned  to  feel, 
and  to  utter  mainly  in  obedient  tones. 

But  ever  the  stern  color  steals  across  the  har- 
monic scene.  The  answer,  however,  has  all  of 
the  warmer  glow  of  Teuton  folk-song  : 


STRINGS  AND  WOOD. 


Suddenly  the  old  tones  ring  out  in  the  wood- 
wind, somehow  less  dismal,  bolder,  ascending  in 
brighter  tonal  flight.  From  the  height,  descend- 
ing uncertainly,  the  same  sudden  warmth  of 

375 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

modern  cheer  is  felt  again,  as  the  strings  again 
sing  the  true  theme  with  a  new,  firmer  touch. 
The  answer  now  comes  with  more  speaking  ap- 
oeal,  with  more  intimate  contrast,  ending  with 
complete  assurance.  The  second  verse  is  but  a 
freer  phase  of  the  first,  simple  and  childlike  of 
humor : 


(Strings,  with  more  sustained  figure  in  woodwind  ;  liorns.) 


buoyant  as  it  gently  soars  on  waving  motive  in 
joyous  wind,  alighting  soon  with  firm  tread  of 
sure  content  in  exultant  burst  of  all  voices.  An 
answer  sings  in  piping  wood : 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 


in  quaint,  quick  trip  of  tones,  in  shifting  prism 
of  colors,  with  something  of  brilliant  triumph, 
almost  of  savage  glee.  It  is  echoed  in  strings 
and  carried  higher  and  stronger,  but  descends  in 
solemn  strides  to  the  true  second  subject,  all 
changed  of  mood,  almost  of  simple  pleading  : 


(Strings  and  fagot,  vvitli  obligate  in  JL  notes  in  high  violins.  ) 

' 


(Melody  in  cellos.) 

which  sounds  in  simplest  lines  in  cellos. 

But  the  accompanying  strings  lend  the  special 
touch,  the  high  violins  of  gliding  figure,  the 
seconds  of  responsive  and  subordinate  strain,  all 
of  richly  changing  harmonic  color.  The  mel- 
ody seems  to  have  the  Schumann  trait  of  thread- 
ing story,  woven  mainly  in  responsive  voices, 
when  the  fagots  enter  as  leaders.  Strange  how 
opposite  the  feeling  in  these  succeeding  themes, 
though  really  of  the  same  fibre. 

A  speaking  force  has  this  latest  theme,  now 
in  fagots  and  strings.  At  the  close  an  expressive 

377 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 


phrase  is  handed  from  voice  to  voice  midst  the 
steps  of  the  tune.  But  the  brief  motive  soon 
expands  and  takes  full  possession,  in  echoing 
and  answering  voices  of  the  leisurely  dulcet 
cadence  that  leads  back  to  first  theme. 

But  now,  out  of  the  phrases  of  cadence,  has 
blossomed  a  figure  which  lightly  hovers,  twining 
about  the  song  of  the  melody,  softening  away 
the  harsh  lines.  Through  this  contact,  and  also 
of  its  own  change,  the  tune  has  thawed  out  its 
chillier  harmonies  in  serener  sunshine  of  modern 
experience,  and  glows  with  true  Gothic  love  of 
kind.  Striking  how  music  in  its  modes  and  har- 
monies, ancient  and  recent,  thus  shows  the  in- 
creasing humanity,  the  diminishing  spirit  of  de- 
struction, so  that  the  Hercules  of  to-day  must 
exert  his  strenuous  power  all  in  work  of  greater 
blessing  to  the  race,  so  that  a  Napoleon  ideal 
of  rise  and  power  by  destroying  action  is  all 
fading  out  of  fashion's  glamour. 

The  wonderful  magic  of  music  is  to  reflect 
this,  so  that  we  feel  instantly  the  change  of 
spirit  in  the  change  of  modes,  and  know  in  a 
378 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

flash  the  inevitable  intent  of  the  poet.*  Here  the 
transition  is  absolutely  convincing — from  stern 
ancient  gloom  to  modern  genial  sense  of  kind — 
in  the  poet's  varying  chords.  True,  later  there  is 
a  return  to  some  of  the  uncertainty,  and  here 
rings  out  the  original  rough  blast  of  theme. 
Somehow  it  has  less  of  chill  gloom.  It  is  all  in 
the  clear  sunny  atmosphere  of  high  wood,  and 
there  is  an  electric  pulse  of  accompanying  mo- 
tion above  and  below.  So  the  sense  is  bold  but 
hopeful,  and  soon  the  theme  threads  its  sequence 
to  clearer  tonal  light. 

And  now  ring  out  the  sharp  clashes  of  eccen- 
tric figure  on  the  quick  jerk  of  the  motive,  now 
higher  and  ever  bolder,  in  keener  blasts  of  the 
rude  theme  and  ever  in  brighter  flashes  of  glint- 
ing light.  The  savagery  is  gone,  but  the  vigor 
is  all  there  and  transfigured.  And,  finally,  the 
former  quaintly  clattering  phrase  raises  its  war- 
shout  once  more  at  the  loudest  and  brightest, 
suddenly  hushing  to  most  expressive  verse  of  the 
second  theme  of  appealing  beauty.  v  It  sings  first 
in  rich  timbre  of  sentient  strings,  answered  then 

*  If  scientific  proof  is  needed,  it  is  at  hand  in  the  recent 
confirmation   of   modern   harmonies  by   their  conformity  to 
newly  discovered  laws,  such  as  those  of  Helmholtz. 
379 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

in  full  chorus  with  big  sonorous  double  stride,  the 
air  ever  a  step  behind  the  bass.  Once  more  the 
strings  sing  it  simply,  and  the  wood  answer  in 
touching  response  from  the  first  strain  of  main 
theme,  and  the  clarinets  send  a  sigh  from  the 
very  heart  of  it,  to  which  the  close  (of  main 
subject)  comes  as  truest  and  surest  solace. 

In  the  last  word  the  theme  once  more  sings 
out  in  full,  as  at  first ;  the  bitterness  is  cured  in 
a  new  way,  not  softened  to  modern  sense  and 
rounded  off,  but  in  its  ancient  lines  transfigured 
in  a  true  light  and  verified  as  a  true  whole.  For 
the  old  tones  stand  as  before,  but  a  new  base  is 
found  for  them,  and  thence  a  pervading  (tonal) 
light,  that  justifies  and  harmonizes  all. 

Third  Mcvemenf.  A  tinge  of  the  old  stern 
mode  is  in  the  breezy  dash  of  scherzo  song  that 
bursts  in  big  array  of  voices : 

TUTTI. 

Allegro  giocoso. 


(Bass  doubled  below.) 
380 


BRAHMS'    FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

It  is  all  vigor  typified,  idealized,  the  full  sense  of 
freedom,  strong  and  withal  a  bubbling  spring 
of  quick  action.  In  the  very  beginning  there  is 
a  type  of  rock-like  power,  that  gets  its  secret 
somehow  in  a  turn  of  chord  that  again  takes  us 
back  for  the  nonce  to  grim  ancient  mode,  to  the 
old  plagal  close,  as  the  schoolmen  have  it,  of  the 
stern  Amen,  avoiding  the  soft  cadence  of  modern 
dominant  that  slides  easily  and  comfortably  to 
the  main  tune.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  bold 
contempt  for  all  modern  smooth  trick  of  chord 
in  the  sweep  of  these  primeval  harmonies. 
Heavy  fall  the  blocks  of  chords  in  the  first 
phrase  of  theme,  plunging  sheer  into  the  re- 
sounding deep.  Light  of  spring  the  answer 
dances  off  in  chords  of  curious  ponderous  grace, 
where  one  playful  motive  is  eminent : 

TUTTI. 


»      I      I  000       -f— f— • 


(Bass  doubled  below.) 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

On  sweeps  the  song  with  surging  figure  of 
after-phrase,  in  bass : 

(Greatly  reinforced  in  full  orchestra.) 


then  united  in  all ;  repeated  with  some  basic 
change.  In  childlike  sport  the  answer  now 
glides  along  with  no  heavy  chords,  mere  skip- 
ping steps  of  strings.  Another  jolly  retort  is 
rung  between  low  strings  and  higher,  on  sim- 
plest phrase  from  text  of  main  theme,  while 
highest  violins  are  singing  merrily  on  in  a  skip- 
ping answer,  and  finally  draw  all  the  strings  in  a 
scampering  run  back  to  the  main  theme,  but 
reversed. 

Topsy-turvy  it  is,  basses  have  the  air,  the  old 
tune  is  bass,  and  it  sounds  as  fine,  even  merrier. 
The  answer,  too,  is  jolly,  upside  down.  The 
outer  line  of  tune  has,  after  all,  less  to  do  with 
it ;  somewhere  between  the  rhythm  and  har- 
382 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

mony  lies  the  magic  of  the  -melody.     On  the 
answer  trips  softly  now  through  shades,  halting 


STRINGS,  WOOD  AND  HORNS. 


(See  page  382,  line  10.) 

and  groping,  when  in  bursts  the  cheery  song  of 
second  theme  : 


STRINGS. 


pizz.  BASSES. 


like  an  old  dance  or  rigaudon^  where,  by  way  of 

answer,  the  wood  run  mockingly  off  the  scene. 

The  glee  goes  unbroken ;  the  wood  come  ran- 

383 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

ning  back  with  the  same  silly  laughter.  Then 
the  dance  changes  step  in  mincing  pace,  de- 
murely hushing  and  slowing  with  eccentric  skip. 
Very  prettily  it  is  softened  down  to  solemn  glide 
of  pious  suppliant,  and  the  tune  is  hymn . 

STRINGS. 


soon  even  stem  chant,  suddenly  clashing,  vigor- 
ous main  theme  again  ;  but  with  a  new  sting 
and  fire  in  the  dancing  retort,  finally  rollicking 
off  with  a  magnificent  mocking  stride  of  first 
theme  in  the  bass  : 


(Strings,  each  figure  doubled  in  higher  8ve.) 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

But  the  answer  holds  the  main  flow  with  slight 
departure  in  pace  and  tonal  mood.  Indeed,  the 
rollicking  motive 


saucily  rises  to  learned  fugue  with  real  stirring 
effect,  but  soon  dances  off  on  empty  trip. 

In  bursts  on  high  the  first  theme,  reversed,  in 
full  blast,  with  strange  turn  of  tune  and  bass ;  it 
is  answered  in  loudest  strings,  all  in  hollow 
themal  tones.  After  all,  it  is  mere  pranks,  playing 
with  the  idea  of  the  tune  in  many  phases,  fast 
and  slow,  and  both  together ;  and  a  little  of  the 
answer  returns  with  inverted  figure  and  the  bass 
striding  mockingly  as  before,  hushing  to  softest 
whisper. 

There  is  ever,  even  here,  that  magnificent  rele- 
vance of  all  detail,  the  wonderful  logic  peculiar 
to  Brahms. 

High  in  woodwind  the  main  theme  now  pipes 
timidly  as  in  choir-loft  of  cathedral ;  follow  the 
solemn  lulls  of  chords  oft  repeated.  Out  of 
them  emerges  what  seems  a  new  tune  of  soothing 
air  in  simplest  lines,  ascending  and  descending : 
*s  385 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

HORNS  AND  FAGOTS. 


STRINGS. 


It  has,  to  be  sure,  a  sense  of  harking  back,  but 
it  has  all  a  verse  here  of"  its  own,  a  new  color  of 
mood.  And  the  further  thread  is,  perhaps,  the 
best  as  the  melody  glides  simply,  far  down  in 
murmuring  strings, — singing  drowsily  its  answer 
on  high,  descending  in  the  wood.  So  the  plan 
of  question  and  solacing  answers  continues  the 
discourse,  when,  on  rude  blast,  breaks  in  the  old 
after-phrase,*  roughly  showing  kinship  with  this 
new  strain,  the  very  same  tune  with  some  slight 
changes  of  pace.  Triumphantly  it  moves  out 
of  the  moment  of  confidence  and  lightly  back 
to  the  merry  tripping  of  the  answer,  again  with 
the  retorts  between  high  strings  and  low,  on  text 
of  theme  with  all  the  old  scampering  back  to 
the  full  main  tune.  But  this  is  now  inverted,  nay, 
much  extended  before  the  answer  comes  merrily 


*  Sec  page  382. 
386 


BRAHMS'    FOURTH    SYMPHONY 

tumbling  with  quivering,  prancing  step,  in  full, 
heavy  cohorts. 

Just  as  before  it  hushes  again  to  a  lull  and 
again  the  gay  old  dance  of  second  theme  sings 
its  saucy  tune.  Instead  of  pious  hymn,  how- 
ever, we  are  soon  lashed  (on  the  figure  of  a 
former  retort  *)  into  a  sort  of  war-cry,  which, 
mounting  in  its  frenzy,  does,  at  the  very  top,  take 
on  something  of  the  former  festive  solemnity. 

There  is  the  most  real  simulation  in  music  of 
actual  dispute  or  discussion.  It  is,  to  be  sure, 
reached  only  in  symphony  or  sonata ;  and  it 
seems  to  have  been  conceived  mainly  by  the 
German  mind.  It  is  one  of  the  highest  touches 
in  the  art  for  power,  not  so  much  in  itself  alone 
as  for  accumulation  and  architecture.  A  real 
debate  goes  on  here  between  motion  of  first 
theme  in  bass  and  a  second  on  high,  soon  ex- 
changing, of  course.  It  seems  to  have  the  seed 
of  unceasing  flow.  Indeed,  it  is  in  the  nature 
of  all  debate  that  it  must  be  stopped  by  force. 

A  new  and  firmer  assurance  is  struck  when 
horns  take  a  hand;  the  tone  is  friendlier,  too, 
though  ever  growing  in  strength.  Presently  this 


*  See  page  385. 
387 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

works  into  a  hurly-burly  on  the  quick  motive, 
while,  above,  the  wood  slowly  and  definitely 
affirm  the  main  theme  of  debate. 

And  at  least  one  more  festive  refrain  of  all 
the  first  melody, — big  swelling  after-phrase,  too, 
all  freer  now  than  ever,  extending  and  varying 
without  bondage  of  mere  restatement,  ending 
with  conclusive  strain  of  first  phrase  of  main 
theme. 

Finale.  A  wonderful  drive,  impetus,  has  this 
•passacaglia*  a  close  thread  of  connection  ;  every- 
thing of  beauty  is  there  ;  the  one  question  still 
lingers :  is  it  symphonic,  at  one  with  the  rest  *? 
The  fragmental  working  up  in  short-breathed 
spurts,  almost  gasps,  like  a  doomed  demon,  a 
Sisyphus,  is  unlike  the  symphonic  spirit  so  far  as 
it  leads  nowhere,  to  no  big  climax,  cannot  in  the 
nature  of  things,  is,  in  a  way,  asthmatic,  cannot 
accumulate  energy,  comes  to  a  height  too  soon. 
The  whole,  indeed,  is  Titanic  ;  Brahms  is  ever  a 
Titan.  Still,  we  begin  to  have  glimpses  of  a 
form  within  a  form. 

It  is  not  the  slavish  succession  of  theme  or 


*  An  ancient  contrapuntal  form,  originally  a  dance,  where 
the  theme  recurs  in  unbroken  iteration. 
388 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

bass  that  we  must  keep  our  curious  eyes  upon ; 
it  is  rather  the  same  drive  that  must  come  ever 
in  different  ways,  like  the  historic  attempt  of  the 
persistent  Scot.  To  enjoy,  you  must  get  away 
from  the  idea  of  ground-bass. 

The  difference  of  passacaglia  and  mere  varia- 
tions lies  here :  in  the  latter  there  is  no  form  but 
constant  repetition ;  in  the  other  there  is  room 
for  a  larger  form,  within  which  the  lesser  can 
ply  its  unceasing  round.  In  a  sense,  the  whole 
is  in  the  first  eight  bars: 

Allegro  energico  e  passionate . 

-£  ^  ^  .   -&-T- 


But,  again,  you  must  look  as  much  at  the  bass 
as  at  the  melody ;  if  you  had  to  choose,  the 
former  is  the  more  typical.  Strangely,  the  theme 
is  really  no  tune.  Successions  of  notes  are  not 
all  tunes.  There  is  nothing  of  symmetry,  or 
responsive  balance.  It  is  a  mere  series  of  blasts, 
389 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

all  in  the  wind,  too ;  more  an  invocation,  a  kind 
of  "  Heai;  O  Israel !",  a  herald  figure  of  more  to 
come:  "The  Lord  your  God  .  .  ."  But  see 
what  happens.  In  sharp  double  thuds,  this  is, 
after  all,  the  same  strain,  though  more  vehement, 
with  the  strings  in  strange,  slamming,  tardy  ascent, 
on  the  heels  of  sturdy  calls  of  the  horns  on  the 
same  note,  clashing  with  the  chords  of  the  theme. 
At  last  something  like  natural  melody  seems 
to  flow  in  answer  : 


(Doubled  above.) 


STRINGS  AND  HORNS.  (Theme  marcato.) 


But  it  is  curiously  like  fugal  theme,  repeated  be- 
fore it  might  blossom  into  a  tune,  coming  to  a 
certain  climax,  too,  which,  though  brief,  is  fitting. 
Before  its  close,  our  sense  is  awake  to  a  dim  din 
from  below.  We  feel  rather  than  hear  the 
actual  course  of  the  tune  in  steadily  unsteady, 
eccentric  pace,  through  all  the  new  fabric  above, 
390 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

Then,  in  full  band,  sounds  the  unmistakable  line 
of  the  theme  high  in  treble  of  all  the  choirs, 
brass,  wood,  and  strings. 

So  far  is  a  clear  alternation  of  subject  in  bass 
and  treble.  Now  a  livelier  figure  with  vigorous, 
jolting  gait  sings  above  the  tenor  of  the  theme : 


largamente. 


(The  theme  strengthened  by  fagots.) 


and  now  a  smooth  one,  very  like  the  last,  varied. 
As  the  strings  surge  upward,  marking  the  latest 
phrase,  the  wood  flow  downward,  some  prettily 
breaking  the  even  stream  with  smaller  ripples. 
The  persistent  bass  sings  away  on  the  old  sono- 
rous text,  and  still  a  new  motive  starts  from  the 
]ast  word  of  cadence,  but  holds  the  same  flowing 
pace. 

So,  on    goes  this   strange  progress.      Like  a 
stream  it  is,  incessant,  unexhausted,  unchanging 
and  ever-changing,  ever  and  never  the  same,  gain- 
391 


BRAHMS'    FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

ing,  too,  and  growing  in  its  rough  vigor.     Only 
it  has  one  trait  of  the  sea,  as  it  rises  in  the  climax 


(Strings,  with  touches  of  the  wood.) 
e stress,  cresc. 


(Theme  in  basses,  doubled  below.) 


(Seepage  391,  line  14.) 

of  each  periodic  pulse,  like  the  waves  advancing 
in  groups. 

As  each  wave  has  its  crest,  so  there  is  a  slow 
surging  and  massing  through  the  series  to  a  fierce 
height,  and  soon  a  lull,  where  low  chords  in 
strings  are  answered  high  in  the  hushed  wood  : 
392 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 


STRINGS. 

And  still,  with  all  disguise,  the  same  essence  of 
tonal  idea,  rising  to  its  own  climax. 

After  minor    strains    of  gentle  plaint  and  of 
playful    longing,    the    dolce    major    has   a   great 

UMelody  csprcssivo  in  clarinets,  then  oboes.) 


soothing  charm.  The  melody  plays  daintily  in 
snatches,  tossed  back  and  forth  in  pretty  re- 
sponse between  clarinet  and  oboe,  while  the 
viola  has  started  with  the  foregoing  phrase ;  the 
waving  of  low  strings  is  important  part,  and  the 

393 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

pace  is  still  kept  from  the  previous  verse.  But 
where  is  our  motive?  See  the  top  of  every 
wave-beat  (rising  in  each  bar)  ;  the  crests  form 
the  theme.  Somewhere  in  the  process  you  will 
see  it  ;  but  never  be  too  literal  in  its  pursuit. 

It  may  lie  invisible  in  mere  possible  conso- 
nance. In  other  words,  its  spirit  is  present,  —  a 
wonderful  quality,  here,  of  the  variation,  where 
room  is  left  as  for  invisible,  sacred  guest,  as  in 
ancient  custom.  You  feel  the  presence  in  the 
air  largely  because  you  have  made  room  for 
it.  And  in  so  far  it  is  present,  too,  in  your 
thought,  which  is  all  that  counts. 

Here  comes  the  golden  spot,  as  rich  horns 
sound  a  deep-toned  legend  still  in  quaint  halting 
pace  : 


(Trombones  and  fagots  with  arpeggio  figure  in  low  strings.) 


The  pace  throughout  changes  but  in  infinitesimal 
step ;  the  sense  of  high  solemnity  forbids.  But 
the  melody  is  warm  and  full  of  sympathy.  There 
is  still  the  tinge  of  the  theme  in  the  bass  and 
394 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 


broken  waves  in  low  strings.  Again  the  same 
melody  sings;  but  more  voices  enter;  all  the 
brass  sound  the  legend,  topped  by  the  woodwind, 
and  the  melody  has  greater  sweetness  and  even 
passion. 

Now  the  first  stern  chant  sounds  as  at  the  be- 
ginning in  full  wind  ;  but  in  the  midst  a  more 
articulate  phrase  comes  coursing  down  from  high 
strings  as  if  to  give  its  own  terser  conclusion. 

There  is  now  a  new  nervous  force  in  the 
strings  trembling  with  action,  as  cellos  hold  the 
cantus,  while  aloft  the  woodwind  play  a  melo- 
dious countertheme,  rising  ever  more  anxiously 
on  ragged,  eccentric  rhythm,  nearer  the  sun. 

Now  in  lowest  basses  a  new  quarrel  begins 
between  low  strings  and  high  wood.  This  is 
the  question : 

(Strings,  wood  and  brass,  doubled  above  and  below.) 


j -J-J— £— 4 

=*-• — r — ^=^_^' 


(Trembling  strings  throughout.) 
395 


BRAHMS'   FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

It  is  so  interesting,  vital,  mastering,  that  we  do  not 
care  to  look  for  the  undercurrent  motive,  though 
it  must  be  somewhere  in  low  violas.  That  matter 
settled,  comes  a  further  playful  retort  between  the 
same  groups.  You  would  not  guess  in  this  game 
of  hide-and-seek  that  the  theme  was  staring  at 
you  in  the  first  notes  of  every  phrase ;  but  it 
surely  is  not  good  to  look  too  closely  for  this 
one  literal  element — you  lose  the  whole  scene. 
Disputation  now  merges  in  the  vigorous  onward 
drive,  mainly  of  strings,  in  nervous  triple  action, 
where  the  wood  merely  give  a  clearer  tinge  to 
the  outer  line  of  theme.  The  motive  is  all 
implied. 

Now  the  motion  becomes  the  most  rapid  pos- 
sible under  sure  control.  In  coursing  streaks, 
strings  and  flutes  tear  up  the  scale,  and  the  mo- 
tive clearly  stands  out  on  the  tip  end  of  the 
figure.  It  is  not  possible  more  than  faintly  to 
suggest  the  fresh  vigor  of  these  succeeding 
chords,  surprising,  each  time,  in  their  bold  com- 
pleteness. At  the  end,  in  sudden  whispering,  the 
strings  dart  in  lowest  depths  like  frightened 
shadows,  while  the  high  wood  break  into  clear 
chord  above  the  rumbling  below.  Solemn,  omi- 
nous it  is  in  the  blending  light  and  shadow  of 
396 


BRAHMS'    FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

high  pitch  of  choir  of  wood,  singing  in  strange 
odd  bits  of  rhythm  against  the  steady  wave  of 
rumbling  bass.  But  the  two  groups  approach ; 
at  the  end  they  exchange  places  and  figures. 

After  the  lull,  of  course,  the  storm  breaks  loose 
the  more.  Contrary  figures  start  together  from 
the  midst  of  strings,  the  upper  accenting  the 
cantus.  High  in  wood  the  waving  motion  con- 
tinues. Great  is  the  force  of  these  figures,  start- 
ing their  impetus  in  phrases  of  two  bars,  each  in 
magnificent  clash,  too,  of  differing  rhythm,  like, 
companies  of  horse  and  foot,  countermarching 
to  one  big  tune  or  swing.  At  the  end  of  .the 
verse  the  motion  is  more  tumultuous,  the  triplet 
canter  dominates.  Here  is  the  phrase  which  has 
a  familiar  sound  and  surely  carries  us  back  to 
first  verse  after  original  statement,  with  its  steady 
calls  of  trumpets  answered  in  eccentric  notes  of 
theme.  Only  here  the  whole  force  of  the  band 
is  in  action,  and  the  answering  notes  quiver  in 
nervous  triple  rhythm. 

And  still  the  next  verse  comes  as  before,  but 
with  much  greater  force  and  power  of  motion. 
As  before,  there  is  a  new  melody  above,  answered 
fugally,  and  fitting  to  the  lower  cantus.  We 
recognize  the  former  course  of  tunes  and  phases ; 

397 


BRAHMS'    FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

but  there  is  ever  newer  beauty,  richer  and  fuller 
grace  of  motion,  the  lines  of  melody  are  more 
rounded,  the  harmonic  color  is  warmer.  Indeed, 
the  added  wealth  of  melody  so  prevails  that  you 
cannot  swear  it  is  the  same  verse  recurring. 
The  former  sequence  now  grows  shadowy. 
Here,  in  a  beautiful  duet  in  the  tree-tops  of  the 
wood,  seems  an  inversion  of  the  first  hushed 
verse,*  in  slow  melodious  answering  calls,  while 
below  a  former  tuneful  figure  is  flowing  in  the 
strings.  And  then  this  very  duet  is  extended  in 
mellow,  speaking  song  of  pervading  beauty : 

(Wood  doubled  above  and  below.) 

.«/J 


Follows  a  gentle  verse  of  new  naive  turn  in 
short  phrases,  each  sounding  before  it  seems  due, 

*  See  page  392. 
398 


B'dAHMS'    FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

while  strings  stride  softly  downward  in  intervening 
beats: 


(Woodwind,  strengthened  below.) 

1 


(Pizz,  strings  doubled  above  and  below.) 

In  the  next  the  striding  strings,  in  loudest  unison, 
take  the  lead  in  time  and  dignity,  and  are  followed 
on  their  heels  in  canon  fashion,  while  ringing 
groups  shout  the  chords  in  the  ragged  intervals. 

The  storm  has  one  more  verse  and  breaks  out 
at  wildest  in  overwhelming  chords  of  the  brass, 
shouting  the  notes  of  the  theme  to  the  heavens, 
while  the  strings  are  coursing  down  the  range  of 
their  harmonies  like  torrents  from  ever  higher 
leaps.  Soon  even  the  waves  meet  from  above 
and  below  in  the  stirred  and  flooded  depths. 

And  we  have  said  nothing  of  the  Titanic  force 
of  these  natural  harmonies.  At  the  height,  for 
once,  we  halt  in  the  basic  course  of  theme, — at 

399 


BRAHMS'    FOURTH   SYMPHONY 

the  highest  note  but  one ;  we  halt  like  a  brave 
horse  pausing  to  leap  into  the  abyss.  Then  in- 
stead of  final  descent  comes  still  a  new  fugal 
chase  on  the  last  four  notes  of  the  theme,  ever 
rising  higher,  reckless  now  of  regular  rut.  Clash- 
ing on  the  heels  of  ascending  treble  comes  the 
bass  furiously  pursuing  in  blind  loyalty.  The 
strings  are  ever  coursing  as  before,  and  the  big 
harmonies  make  the  heavens  ring.  The  ambi- 
tious climb  of  Titans  heavenward  must  stop,  in 
broken  chords. 

Suddenly  in  comes  an  old  phrase  of  the 
Scherzo,  of  retorts  on  bits  of  its  theme,  moving 
with  perfect  fitness  in  the  course  of  the  motive, 
and  so  binding  the  two  cantos  together  in  letter 
and  spirit.  The  end  is  in  final  firm  song  of 
theme,  though  in  proud  contempt  of  the  strict 
rhythm,  closing  in  revel  of  dance  on  the  quick- 
ened trip  of  the  cadence. 


400 


XIII 

LISZT,   TSCHAIKOWSKY, 
STRAUSS 

THERE  is  a  danger  of  impertinence  in  a 
survey  of  contemporary  art,  in  an  assured 
acclaim  of  the  coming  classic.  So  often  have 
the  favorites  of  their  day  vanished  from  the  lists 
that  it  almost  seems  the  master  is  never  hailed  in 
his  time.  Ever  more  eminent  stands  the  art  of 
the  man  whose  masterpiece,  his  great  completed 
symphony,  lay  buried  unknown  for  ten  years 
after  his  death.  So  to-day  it  were  idlest  vanity 
to  find  in  the  newly  applauded  name  the  latest 
of  the  immortals.  We  cannot  know  that  the 
work  of  a  modest  poet  who  is  now  singing,  or 
of  one  whose  song  is  hushed,  may  not  loom  in 
great  dimensions  through  the  sobering  years. 

All  we  can  do  is  to  note  the  signs  and  tenden- 
cies and  to  wonder  at  the  outcome.  In  the 
realm  of  instrumental  art  a  wealth  of  new  tra- 
ditions must  come  into  the  reckoning.  Their 
effect  on  the  symphony  (taken  as  rough  type) 

falls  indirectly  from  another  field,  of  the  musical 
26  401 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

drama.  A  history  of  all  music  would  take  cog- 
nizance of  this  school.  Side  by  side  the  new 
tradition  has  run  with  the  purer  art  of  absolute 
tones.  The  sharp  contrast  in  outer  form  has  de- 
layed a  mutual  merging  of  the  lines.  So  in  the 
days  of  Bach  was  the  riotous  revel  of  Italian 
monody  out  of  all  plane  with  the  sublime  archi- 
tecture of  the  Church  school.  Almost  never  have 
the  symphony  and  the  musical  drama  had  points 
of  contact  in  later  centuries.  Indeed,  the  Lied 
is  more  closely  akin  to  the  former.  With  one 
great  exception,  the  composers  of  the  drama  and 
those  who  wrote  for  instruments  alone  worked 
and  thought  in  separate  lines,  as  of  different  arts. 

Of  the  opera  there  is  here  no  room  for  basic 
discussion.  But  we  cannot  ignore  the  new 
growth  that  has  flowered  on  the  field  of  the  music 
drama. 

In  the  middle  of  the  past  century  came  a 
wave  of  recoil,  not  from  the  mere  spirit, — from 
the  very  foundations  of  classical  masters.  A 
group  of  radicals,  in  various  lines  of  the  art,  made 
common  cause  of  a  general  revolt  from  the  tradi- 
tions that  stood,  broadly,  for  order  or  sequence, 
— in  the  creation  of  rhythmic  melody,  in  the 
achievement  of  genuine  harmony,  in  the  cohe- 
402 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

rent  process  that  fashions  a  perfect  whole.  They 
were  impatient  artisans  in  eager  pursuit  of  striking 
effect.  They  craved  a  sensational  element  in 
their  emotion.  They  lost  heed  of  the  utterance 
of  truest  feeling  in  the  quieter  process,  the  "  still 
small  voice"  of  purest  art.  Yet  in  their  irregular 
course  they  lit  on  sporadic  ideas  of  alluring 
beauty;  they  took  the  world  by  a  storm  that 
almost  overthrew  a  saner  balance. 

Outer  traits  of  their  iconoclasm  might  be 
numbered.  Melody  was  sung  in  fragments ;  the 
very  name  was  abolished  with  the  true  type. 
Harmony  was  largely  exploited  in  bold  splurges 
of  strange  and  sudden  group  of  tones, — harmony 
that  before  was  viewed  as  the  achieved  result  of 
the  independent  paths  of  concerted  voices.  Thus 
the  harmony  of  Bach  was  no  aim  in  itself,  was 
ever  an  incident  of  a  greater  polyphony ;  yet  it 
had  an  infinite  variety  that  flowed  from  the  vital 
process  of  infinite  change  in  the  separate  move- 
ment of  voices.  Here  lies  the  secret  of  the 
inexhaustible  harmony  of  Bach. 

A  result  of  the  conscious  striving  for  har- 
monic effect  was  a  certain  trait  of  stereotype,  a 
special  almost  mechanical  mode  in  the  fashioning. 
Fads  and  devices  have  been  many  in  the  history 
403 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

of  music,  and  probably  of  most  art.  In  oldest 
days  was  the  discovered  cipher  for  setting  all 
words  in  tones.  Later  the  scheme  of  false  bass, 
the  parallel  motion  of  voices,  started  in  a  certain 
way,  relieved  the  composer  of  all  need  of  har- 
monic toil,  until  the  Church  stemmed  its  riotous 
course  by  special  decree. 

Of  like  nature  is  the  modern  use  of  the  ex- 
tended grace  note.*  Delay  the  integral  sound 
by  a  neighboring  whole  tone  or  half,  from  above 
or  from  below,  and  you  may  give  the  simplest 
chord  a  new  sense  of  romantic  desire.  Write  it 
in  more  of  the  voices,  and  you  have  transformed 
a  primitive  chord  to  strangest  harmony.  There 
is  no  doubt  of  the  real  beauty.  The  harm  to 
art  lies  merely  in  the  overdoing.  So  it  is,'  too, 
with  the  trick  of  false  bass.f  And  then,  to  be 
sure,  the  first  discoverer  has  special  credit ;  so  it 
is,  too,  with  the  faux  bourdon. 

Striking  is  the  number  of  modern  motives 
where  the  whole  point  lies  just  in  this  stress  of 
deferring  tone.  J  No  doubt,  the  greater  poets  de- 

*  The  appoggiatura. 

•j"  Beethoven  uses  it  in  the  main  subject  of  the  Finale  of  hb 
Piano  Sonata,  op.  2  No.  3, 

£  Most  of  the  motives,  including  the  expressive  main  theme 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

pended  least  on  the  artifice.  Many  of  Wagner's 
themes  are  free  from  it.  Brahms  disdained  its  use. 

The  brevity  of  the  new  motif,  displacing  the 
full  cycle  of  the  older  melody,  gave  a  tempting 
scope  to  this  new  harmonic  manner.  Indeed,  it 
may  be  said,  the  smaller  the  separate  effect,  inde- 
pendent of  its  place  in  the  whole,  the.  more 
danger  is  there  of  mechanical  means.  So  Monte- 
verde  produced  a  marvellous  furore  with  his  new 
tremolo  and  -pizzicato  of  strings ;  and  they  have 
remained,  though  the  works  have  departed. 

It  was  in  the  lyric  drama  of  Richard  Wagner 
that  some  of  the  elements  of  an  ultra-romantic 
music  had  their  rise ;  to  its  exigencies  they  are 
expressly  fitted.  This  drama  has  no  place  here, 
save  in  its  bearing  upon  symphonic  writing. 
Whatever  be  its  outline,  from  the  dramatic  point, 
— of  pure  musical  structure  or  form  there  is  none 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  separate  lyrics.  And 
here  is  involved  another  of  these  special  traits  of 
this  spirit  of  recoil,  that  is  far  the  subtlest  to 
perceive. 

of  Wagner's   "  Tristan   and    Isolde,"   are    examples ;    and 
almost  all  the  themes  of  Liszt's  "  Faust"   Symphony  and  of 
Tschaikowsky's  Pafhetique.     See  infra. 
405 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

The  freedom  from  form,  from  the  strict  co- 
herence of  thought  in  absolute  tones,  gave  the 
strongest  vent  for  a  newer  polyphony,  a  so-called 
counterpoint,  much  vaunted  as  the  redeeming 
symptom  of  profoundest  art, — a  thickest  mazing 
of  concerted  themes.*  This  is  in  the  natural 
course.  The  supreme  element  of  high  art,  with 
the  frigid  name  of  form,  whereby  the  tonal  ideas 
grow  and  merge  to  significant  whole,  so  that  in 
the  form  of  music  lies  its  true  meaning,  acts  as 
a  fetter  of  other  elements.  The  theme  of  pure 
music  cannot  have  the  freedom  of  the  song.  It 
must  be  fitted  to  the  stress  of  discussion  and 
structural  growth,  just  as  the  fugal  subject  is  not 
a  tune.  The  mystic  quality  of  counterpoint,  of 
true  polyphony,  is  in  its  real  condition  obedient 
to  the  sway  of  this  other  highest  trait  of  or- 
ganic wholeness.  When  that  is  withdrawn,  the 
ease  of  such  a  massing  of  simultaneous  strains 
is  infinitely  increased.  If  you  may  wander  end- 
lessly, and  may  stop  when  you  list,  you  can  add 
another  line  of  tune  above,  below,  in  the  middle, 

*  It  was  reinforced  by  boldest  exploits  of  the  limits  of 
dissonance,  based  mainly  on  the  extended  license  of  appog* 
giatura.  This  is  seen  most  strikingly  in  Richard  Strauss'* 
« '  Heldenleben. ' '  See  infra. 

406 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

and  so  write  your  "  counterpoint"  by  the  yard. 
But  when  you  must  round  all  in  a  true  cycle  of 
crystal  growth  and  cogent  sequence,  reaffirmed 
by  the  united  agreement  of  all  the  ideas,  you 
have  the  testing  conditions  for  true  polyphony* 
Thus  it  is  that  the  so-called  counterpoint  of 
Wagner  has  so  very  different  a  taste  from  that 
of  Bach  or  of  Beethoven. 

Again,  we  must  not  forget  that  these  terms 
counterpoint  and  form  are  not  concrete  things 
that  you  can  point  to  and  label  by  the  page; 
they  are  qualities  that  constitute  true  poetry. 
There  is  no  guarantee  of  true  form  in  the  outline 
of  sonata  or  rondo.  These  are  merely  types 
that  have  gerved  to  utter  the  profound  sense  of 
this  quality  of  tonal  coherence.  It  is  no  mystery. 
A  child  will  understand  whether  the  parts  of  a 
story  hang  together.  The  idea  is  familiar  in 
architecture.  Music,  that  has  no  directing  words 
nor  familiar  figures  like  other  arts,  needs  the  test 
of  this  pervading  sequence  of  organic  structure. 
There  the  tonal  art  reaches  its  highest.  Else- 
where it  delights,  thrills,  startles;  there,  in  the 
overwhelming  consent  from  all  the  corners  of 
the  document,  it  tells  its  resistless  message,  as  of 
sacred  oracle. 

407 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

It  goes  without  saying  that  you  cannot  see 
form  in  individual  spots.  It  must  come  in  glint- 
ing glimpses  of  the  whole.  No  matter  how 
beautiful  the  separate  touches,  they  do  not  affect 
the  real  beauty  and  meaning  of  the  whole. 

Still  following  our  original  plan,  we  will  take 
a  direct  view  of  certain  works  that  show  the  new 
spirit  each  in  their  way,  beginning  with  one  of 
the  earliest,  Liszt's  "  Faust"  Symphony. 

The  only  clue  to  a  composer's  intent,  aside 
from  the  notes  themselves,  lies  in  the  title.  In 
this  work,  accounted  by  many  the  greatest  that 
Liszt  wrote,  the  exact  title-page  is  most  to  the 
point.  For  it  is  all  there  is  ot  verbal  titulation, 
where,  yet,  the  temptation  is  constant  to  find 
precise  correspondence  and  label  of  musical 
phrase, — where,  too,  it  seems  that  the  composer 
himself  must  have  felt  a  special  meaning  in  cer- 
tain motives  that  recur  throughout. 

"  A  Faust  Symphony,"  runs  the  title  (in  Ger- 
man), "  in  three  pictures, — in  the  spirit  of  Goethe. 
I,  Faust.  II,  Margarete.  Ill,  Mephistopheles, 
and  Final  Chorus  *  All  of  earth  is  but  symbol' ; 
for  full  orchestra  and  male  chorus." 

The  chorus  is  not  an  indispensable  part ;  for, 
before  its  beginning,  there  is  an  alternate  ending 
408 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

of  twelve  closing  bars,  in  case  the  chorus  is 
omitted. 

Throughout  the  work  certain  brief  motives 
form  the  common  text  of  all  the  movements. 
Thus,  one  is  tempted  to  think  of  three  psycho- 
logical phases  rather  than  of  individual  roles. 
The  German  is  *'  in  drel  Charakterbildern"  The 
meaning  of  the  word  Charakter  is  so  broad  that 
the  title  certainly  does  not  forbid  our  construc- 
tion. Indeed,  it  seems  very  clear,  that  in  Char- 
akterbild  the  stress  is  laid  on  the  psychological 
view,  as  against  the  mere  picture,  or  tableau,  as 
some  have  translated. 

The  best  test  is  the  music  itself.  It  is  evident, 
however,  that  we  are  here  in  a  new  kind  of  writing, 
with  the  discursive  freedom  of  opera  in  pure  in- 
strumental music ;  with  the  symbolic  motive,  in 
place  of  full-fledged  melody ;  with  vehement 
massive  strokes  of  bold  harmonies,  instead  of  the 
blended  song  of  many  voices,  of  classic  art. 
Without  regard  to  the  merits  of  the  newer  plan, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  Liszt's  orchestral  works 
are  startling  in  their  likeness  to  much  later  music 
that  makes  greater  pretence  of  original  thought. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  Liszt,  with  all  the  bril- 
liancy of  his  virtuoso  lite,  is  very  late  in  finding 
409 


USZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

recognition  for  his  composition.  There  are  in- 
creasing signs  that  Liszt  was  the  true  author  of 
much  of  modern  vein  that  has  been  ascribed  to 
others  who  merely  followed  in  his  wake.  To- 
day, a  performance  of  the  "  Faust"  Symphony, 
so  rarely  heard,  must,  by  the  intrinsic  music  as 
well  as  the  impetuous  spontaneity,  bring  striking 
proof  of  a  certain  prophetic  quality. 

Where  brief  motives  recur  throughout,  in  opera 
or  in  unsung  music,  it  is  impossible  not  to  ascribe 
a  definite  intent  of  meaning.  Where  a  strain  from 
a  remote  movement  enters  later,  here  and  there, 
instead  of  any  other  chance  phrase,  there  must 
be  intended  the  association  of  a  certain  idea  that 
becomes  an  intimate  element  of  the  poetic  con- 
tent. Once  for  all, — not  to  discuss  the  under- 
lying principle, — the  idea  of  the  motif  is  bound 
up  with  that  of  programme  music.  Liszt  chose 
to  give  no  verbal  clues.  It  may  seem  imperti- 
nent to  attempt  to  suggest  them.  The  answer 
is  that  a  chance  name  that  may  be  given  to  a 
symbol  may  serve  no  more  than  as  designa- 
tion, for  better  study  of  the  music  itself.  There 
need  be  no  intent  definitely  to  translate  the 
themes. 

It  is.  however,  surely  urgent  for  the  listener  to 
410 


I 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

mark  well  these  integral  elements  on  which  the 
whole  is  joined  in  poetic  significance.  Their 
recurrence  here  must  convince  us  of  the  subjec- 
tive nature  of  the  work, — must  refute  the  notion 
of  three  objective  "pictures,"  such  as  the  title 
might  seem  to  mean. 

The  first  of  the  motives  begins  the  "  Faust" 
movement,  lento  assai  : 

(Violas  and  cellos  muted.) 


It  seems  to  utter  the  mood  of  the  restless  scholar 
(as  we  read  in  Goethe),  wondering  and  dreaming 
of  the  true  life  without  the  limits  of  his  cloistered 
cell, — the  life  that  his  own  narrow  quest  has  all 
but  closed  to  his  view. 

Immediately  after  the  motive  of  wondering 
follows  a  second  that  has  the  more  human  im- 
pulse of  longing  : 

SOLO  OBOE. 


,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

The  two  alternate,  with  clear  significance,  the 
first  growing  more  restless,  the  second  ever  calm- 
ing with  a  sense  of  answered  question.  The 
halting  sadness  is  broken  by  a  quicker,  active 
pulse,  allegro  impetuoso,  on  lesser  phrases  that  are 
no  part  of  symbolic  plan.  Rushing  to  big 
climax,  it  is  vented  in  the  irresistible  drive  of  first 
motive.  But  the  following  tempest  breaks  off, 
sheer,  in  sudden  pause.  In  the  original  lento  assai, 
the  second  theme  (of  longing)  appears,  for  a 
single  strain,  to  burst  with  passionate  rage  into  a 
third  motive,  allegro  agitato  ed  appassionato, — one 
of  those  phrases  of  vehement  desire  that  mark 
the  sadness  of  latest  Russian  symphony : 

3.  Allegro  agitato,  ed  appassionato  assai.  moltopiuforzando. 


STRINGS.] 

It  drives  along,  in  much  freer  and  more  extended 
course  than  the  others,  to  a  height  of  brilliant 
joy,  where  all  gloomy  tinge  is  dissolved.  But 
presently,  in  changed  hue  of  tonal  light,  above 
trembling  strings,  sings  our  fourth  symbol,  the 
most  sustained  motif  of  all  we  have  so  far  heard, 

espressrvo  ed  appassionato  molto. 
412 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

It  has  not  quite  the  serenity  of  true  andante. 
But  there  is  a  trace  of  contentment, — rather  of 

OBOES  AND  CLARINETS. 
espressivo  ed  appassionato  molto. 


achievement.  In  the  second  part  is  still  the  sense 
of  longing.  Voice  after  voice  follows  as  in  re- 
lentless fugue,  and  soon  the  furious  (agitato) 
theme  is  mingled  in  its  career.  Now  an  entirely 
new  scene  moves  before  us.  Meno  mosso,  mis- 
terioso  e  molto  tranquillo,  are  heard  soothing  sounds 
of  strings  very  like  the  forest  notes  of  the  Wald- 
weben.  Under  their  shelter,  in  mellow  mood, 
the  first  symbol  of  longing  sings,  all  transformed 
to  clear  happiness  of  major,  winding  along  in 
entrancing  voyage  of  tonal  light,  though  it  never 
shifts  to  the  dim  gloom  of  its  original  mood. 
Soon  comes  another  joyous  phase  of  older  theme, 
413 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

when  our  second  symbol  sounds  in  glad  major, 
ajfettuoso,  poco  andante,  in  chorus  and  lower  wood- 
wind, ever  answered  by  delicate  strain  of  strings, 
dolce  con  grazta.  The  heart  of  the  movement  is 
here,  the  true  andante  note  is  reached  of  con- 
tained bliss,  and  a  little  further,  a  triumphant 
height,  allegro  con  fuoco,  that  is  affirmed  with 
conclusive  finality  in  the  big  march,  grandwso 
(poco  meno  mosso)r  where  the  theme  is  wonder- 
fully changed  to  an  opposite  mood  of  assurance : 

(Motive  in  brass  greatly  reinforced  in  wood  and  strings.) 
Grand ioso. 


The  first  two  symbols  now  sound  in  responsive 
duet  with  martial  vigor,  crowned  with  re-entrance 
of  the  march.  The  various  motives  are  woven 
in  rich  blending  of  a  canon  on  the  first  in  the 
brass,  and  of  the  fourth  in  strings.  The  master- 
ful pace  soon  dies  down  to  a  lull,  when  the  fourth 

motive  breaks  out  as  at  first  with  the  old  pas- 
414 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

sionate  agitation.  .  This  leads  to  the  mood  of 
the  beginning,  with  the  themes  in  their  original 
guise.  But,  here  in  the  reprise,  there  is  more  of 
wealth  of  interwoven  phrase,  there  is  less  of 
anxious  gloom  in  the  strife  that  once  again 
reaches  the  height  of  triumphant  march. 

The  close,  where  the  first  four  motives  prevail, 
begins  andante  maestoso  assai,  the  woodwind  and 
brass  singing  the  first  theme  over  trembling  of 
low  strings.  Indeed,  this  very  figure  of  accom- 
paniment seems  to  mark  the  return  of  the  old 
mood  of  uncertain  striving.  The  theme  quickly 
hurries  in  pace  and  darkens  in  discordant  tone, 
the  second  hovering  about  with  ominous  answer. 
The  serenity  is  gone,  though  the  strife  still  rises 
to  big  height.  The  end  has  the  dim  feeling  of 
the  beginning. 

In  the  second  picture, "  Gretchen"  a  prelude  of 
melodic  duet  between  flute  and  clarinet  leads  to  the 
central  theme  of  the  work  announced  in  strings : 
the  unmistakable  symbol  of  the  Eternal  Femi- 
nine, of  the  words  of  the  closing  chorus. 

For  some  kind  of  understanding  of  this  dif- 
ficult conception,  we  must  remember  several 
things.  For  one,  this  central  and  crowning 
melody  does  not  appear  in  the  "  Faust"  picture, 
415 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

has  no  part  therein.     Clearly,  then,  that  canto  of 
the  poem  (so  to  speak)  is  not  final ;  it  stops,  at 


SOLO  OBOE. 
Andante  Soai'e. 


£'; 


l#*±?tt** 


Off 


dolce  semplice. 


the  very  least,  within  the  first  part  of  Goethe's 
drama.  Again,  the  "Gretchen"  music  seems 
clearly,  like  the  "  Mephistopheles,"  after  all,  a 
mere  succeeding  phase  of  Faust  himself.  There 
is  nothing  of  individual  characterization  ;  it  is  all 
a  subjective  drama  of  a  single  hero.  Thus,  there 
is  no  trace,  in  Liszt's  setting,  of  the  famous  song 
of  Margarete's  "  Meine  Ruh'  1st  hin"  that  Schu- 
bert has  made  musically  familiar.  With  Liszt, 
416  ' 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 


we  do  not  think  of  "  Gretchen"  individually. 
The  whole  is  a  beautiful  idyl  in  two  veins.  "  But 
in  the  first,  with  its  supreme  symbolic  theme, 
there  is  interwoven  the  third  of  the  motives  of 
the  first  movement,  which  had  the  first  sense 
of  contentment.  The  second  verse  of  the 
"Gretchen"  idyl  begins  with  a  new  melody 
dolce  amoroso,  in  strings, — that  does  not  recur  as 
symbolic  motive, — that  seems  sufficient  in  the 
meaning  of  its  own  beauty  : 

STRINGS. 


But  in  the  midst  of  the  movement  is  a  dra- 
matic moment,  in  heightened  pace,  where  the 
play  of  early  motives  must  be  of  highest  signifi- 
cance for  the  perception  of  the  composer's  intent. 
And  here  is  the  final  point  that  must  not  be  for- 
gotten :  all  the  motives  recur  here  save  the  first 
27  417 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

of  all.  Thus  clearly  is  that  theme  confirmed  as 
the  restless  stirring  and  vague  wondering  that  is 
free  of  the  thought  of  woman. 

The  second  motive — of  longing — does  play  a 
striking  role,  sounded  in  brass,  against  ominous 
quivering  of  strings  and  of  harp.  Our  third 
symbol — with  its  more  contained  sense  of  hope 
— now  enters  in  soothing  response,  espressivo  con 
intimo  sentimento,  in  cellos,  below  muted  violins 
and  lightly  dropping  chords  of  flutes.  Lastly, 
the  fourth  passionate  symbol  sounds  in  softest 
strings,  soave  con  amore.  The  interplay  of  these 
three  themes  is  ended  by  the  final  song  of  the 
two  verses  of  the  movement,  with  lesser  inter- 
weaving of  casual  motive. 

In  the  third  picture,  "  Mephistopheles"  after 
prelude  of  demonic  phrases,  the  first  motive  ap- 
pears in  constantly  spurring  allegro.  Soon  the 
fourth  symbol  sounds  in  new  step  of  dance  that 
has  a  touch  of  Satanic  mirth. 

The  second  appears,  distorted,  too,  in  sardonic 
trip.  But  the  fourth  seems  to  hold  the  main 
sway.  It  has,  too,  a  more  joyous  air,  and  runs 
to  the  same  triumphant  climax  as  in  the  first 
movement,  where  the  "  common"  time  alternates 

with  the  dance  of  six-eighths. 
418 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

The  second  symbol  has  another  stranger 
disguise,  in  united  hurried  pace,  where  all  of 
the  original  longing  seems  to  have  vanished. 
Indeed,  the  whole  masquerade  of  motives  is 
most  bewildering,  and  can  be  caught  only 
.by  a  tense  concentration.  Throughout,  there 
is  a  grim  playfulness  of  perversion.  It  is  to 
be  well  noted  that  all  four  of  the  symbolic 
themes  recur,  and  another  new  melody  ap- 
pears. A  most  spirited  verse  of  the  former 
march  returns,  too,  where  the  new  figure,  of 
high  wood  and  strings,  is  marked  fortissimo 
glpcoso. 

In  the  midst  of  the  whirl  suddenly  sounds  the 
"Gretchen"  melody,  symbol  of  the  "Eternal 
Feminine."  Though  the  stormy  strife  breaks 
loose  again,  the  demon  element  has  vanished, — 
as  before  a  sacred  symbol.  Once  more  the 
original  cycle  of  themes  leads  to  triumphant 
march,  and  the  end  comes  with  unbroken  ring 
of  joy, — the  end,  that  is,  of  instrumental  sym- 
phony. .But  this  is,  after  all,  a  mere  substitute 
for  the  bigger  ending  with  male  chorus,  who 
sing,  Andante  mistuo^  to  the  accompanying 
"  Gretchen"  motto,  the  closing  verse  of  Goethe's 

"Faust"*. 

419 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

"All  passing  things 

Are  symbols  sent : 
Here  the  Inadequate 

Grows  to  event. 
The  Indescribable, 

Here  'tis  done, 
Th'  Eternal  Feminine 

Leads  us  on." 


Thus  we  see  that  in  Liszt  the  close  coherence 
and  sequence  of  musical  ideas,  and  the  resulting 
structure  and  form,  give  way  to  a  highly  thought- 
ful play  of  brief  symbolic  motives,  in  a  plot  of 
external  conception.  The  whole  work  becomes 
a  tonal  drama,  lacking  only  words  and  the  visible 
scene. 

It  is  perhaps  curious  that  among  classic  sym- 
phonies— the  highest  form  of  music,  that  may 
correspond  to  the  drama  in  poetry,  and  that  may 
be  said  to  present  a  kind  of  view  of  life  of  the 
composer — there  are  no  tragedies.  In  poetry  the 
tragic  seems  the  native  element  for  the  boldest 
flights  and  the  deepest  questions.  Now  either 
there  is  no  such  analogy  between  music  and 
poetry,  or  composers  have  been  strangely  con- 
ventional. One  difference  in  the  art  is  this: 
420 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

dramas,  like  "  Hamlet,"  even  "CEdipus,"  are  trage- 
dies in  outer  event.  Music  has  none  of  these, — 
that  is,  pure  music.  It  deals  only  with  the  moral 
state,  the  sentient,  or  emotional  condition;  in 
other  words,  it  is  purely  subjective  (though  there 
are  varying  degrees  of  objective  association). 
Now  music  in  this  sense  cannot  afford  to  be 
tragic,  though  in  a  wider  view  the  word  might 
be  applied.  The  Fifth  Symphony  is  quite  as 
tragic  as  the  Book  of  Job,  and  very  like  it  in 
intrinsic  content.  Here,  as  in  almost  all  the 
great  tragedies,  there  is  a  moral  recoil  from  the 
4f  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune."  This,  in  the 
symphony,  is  typified  in  the  triumphant  finale. 
In  the  tragic  drama  the  worst  physical  ill  that  can 
befall  is  not  the  real  end,  after  all.  Death,  not 
even  fate,  can  touch  a  man's  soul.  A  symphony 
that  ended  in  the  tragic  note  would  be  darker 
than  any  plot  of  poets.  So  of  this  kind  of 
tragedy  that  mean  complete  surrender  to  despair, 
there  are  in  art  few,  if  any, — none  among  the 
classics.  Goethe's  "  Faust,"  in  the  first  part,  is  per- 
haps the  nearest  approach.  Macbeth  suggests  it. 
But  the  hero  of  the  drama  is,  after  all,  not  the 
real  ego  of  the  poet ;  the  view  is  never  purely 
subjective,  certainly  not  in  the  same  degree  as  in 
421 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

the  pure  lyric,  or  as  in  music.  The  tragedy  of 
the  drama,  once  more,  is  largely  external,  not 
moral.  But  in  music,  where  there  are  no  events, 
the  hopeless  tragic  note  means  a  surrender; 
and,  in  so  far,  it  is,  in  a  certain  sense,  immoral. 
Even  the  Sonata  Pathetique  ends  in  a  frolic. 
All  the  classic  symphonies  end  merrily.  There 
is  ever  a  scherzo  after  the  funeral  march  in  sonata 
and  symphony.  It  is,  therefore,  not  strange,  after 
all,  that  there  has  never  been  a  tragic  ending 
before  Tschaikowsky's  Symphonic  Pathetique. 

It  is  significant,  not  merely  as  a  philosophy  in 
itself,  but  as  the  burden  of  art.  The  emotional 
content  of  art  is  limited  to  the  feelings  which 
make  for  a  better  state.  Murder  cannot  be  the 
theme.  There  are  no  patriotic  songs  save  of 
self-defence.  "  Bose  Mensehen"  say  the  Ger- 
mans, "  haben  keine  Lieder"  So  the  gospel  of 
despair  is  surely  very  near  the  limit  of  the  musi- 
cal realm  of  subjects.  Still,  truth  is  the  highest 
object  of  all,  so  Tschaikowsky  would  certainly 
answer. 

There  is  a  consistent  sadness  blended  with 
tense  passion  throughout  the  symphony.  In 
Adagio  the  bassoons  begin  an  expressive  char- 
acteristic motive : 

422 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 


against  a  hollow  chord  of  the  basses.  Later  in 
a  chord  of  low  strings,  Allegro  non  troppo,  echoed 
by  woodwind,  it  has  not  lost  its  sadness  ;  it  re- 
turns in  various  haunting  guises.  An  episode 
follows  in  light  flitting  figures,  catching  each 
other  in  alternate  chase  in  a  kind  of  strained 
gayety,  dropping,  after  a  climax,  by  vanishing 
steps  into  Andante  song  of  speaking  pathos  : 

Andante. 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

The  first  motive,  repeated,  is  answered  by  a 
phrase  highly  typical  of  the  new  spirit  in  its 
passionate  quality. 


(Air  in  cellos,  doubled  above  in  violins.) 


(Strings,  with  harmony  in  brass.) 


There  is  no  mistaking  the  blended  beauty  and 
desire.  This  leads  into  a  responsive  duet  between 
flute  and  bassoon,  on  a  new  motive : 


with  a  saltando  rhythm  in  the  strings,  other  voices 
joining  with  more  sustained  answering  figure, 
suggesting  the  song  into  which  they  lead,  again 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

in  Andante,  now  with  enriched  quiver  of  rhyth- 
mic setting.  The  song,  too,  comes  to  a  climax 
in  the  pure  lyric  manner.  Indeed,  the  .drama  is, 
as  it  were,  full  of  monologue.  The  action  halts, 
the  other  characters  disappear,  leaving  the  hero 
ever  alone  to  pour  out  his  griefs  (all  in  the  Allegro 
chapter,  too) ;  anon  the  drama  is  forced  into 
renewed  action.  After  one  of  these  climaxes 
the  melancholy  motive  of  the  introduction  enters 
in  Allegro  on  the  G  string  of  the  violin  with  a 
fierce  obligato  (feroce)  of  violas,  working  up 
with  great  animation,  though  always  in  sombre 
mood  in  the  quicker  extension  of  theme  sustained 
in  tempestuous  sequence : 


In  the  midst  of  the  storm,  redoubled  voices  in 
high  wood  and  brass  peal  forth  a  mournful  blast, 
a  varied  line  of  the  passionate  answer  of  second 
theme.  When  the  paroxysm  has  abated,  a 
solemn  fateful  chorale  sounds  in  the  brass  that 
soon  rises  into  a  new  tempest  of  lament,  that  dies 
away  in  the  wail  of  first  theme.  In  this  final 
song  of  main  theme  is  none  of  the  lesser  motive. 
425 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

Instead,  insistent  reiteration  of  the  motto  alter* 
nates  with  the  broad  fateful  strain,  descending  in 


rd 


(Full  orchestra,  theme  redoubled  in  8ves.) 
(See  page  415,  line  1 8.) 

the  brass.  The  two  meet  in  a  blended  song  of 
deep  tragedy.  A  purely  lyric  plaint  of  the 
second  theme  ends  the  movement. 


BRASS,  cantabile. 


(See  page  425,  line  ^^. 
426 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

The  second  movement,  Allegro  con  grazia,  is 
on  a  dance-like  theme  of  whimsical  rhythm  in 
5-4  time : 

Allegro  con  grazia. 


(Cello  theme  with  chords  of  />/rr.  strings,  horns  and  wood.) 


introduced  by  cellos  and  taken  up  by  chorus  of 
woodwind.  The  second  melody  is  but  a  counter- 
part of  the  first,  all  in  simple  song  form  : 


The  middle  verse — con  dolcezza  e  fie  bile — is  a 
quaint  blending  of  the  strange  dance  with  a 
tearful  strain.. 

The  third  movement  is  most  spirited,  almost 

feverish  in  the  tonal  scene  that  first  greets  us.     To 

a  fitful,  elfish  play  (of  alternate  strings  and  woods) 

— like  will-o'-the-wisp  in  indistinct  laughter  and 

427 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

con  dolcezza  e  flebile. 


(STRINGS,  WOOD  AND  HORNS.) 

(See  page  427,  line  9.) 


mockery — there  is  presently  added  a  call  as  of  a 
bugle,  in  simplest  outline,  but  ending  in  a  strange 
barbaric  turn;  new  to  us  of  western  culture,  of 
mingled  defiance  and  fatalism  : 


OBOES. 


With  all  the  wildness  there  is  no  note  of 
joy.  At  first  it  sounds  more  hopeless  than  frank 
lamentation, — a  kind  of  sardonic  laugh  at  per- 
sonal damnation.  The  first  approach  to  relief, 
to  a  sense  of  terra  firma,  is  where  related  melody 
works  its  way  to  the  major,  followed  by  brilliant 
flashes  of  modulating  chords.  Though  wild  to 
savagery,  they  have  lost  the  uncertain,  unsane 

feeling.     They  come  near  to  exultation  and  seem 
428 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

(Strings,  the  theme  doubled  above.) 


(See  page  428,  line  9.) 

the  true  (though  not  the  intended)  high  point 
of  the  symphony.  And,  strikingly,  on  its  re- 
turn the  first  flickering  play  has  a  more  hopeful 
tone. 

Bright  melodic  snatches  now  spring  up  and 
illumine  the  purpose,  all  to  the  original  mur- 
muring background,  though  now  with  lighter 
hue.  And  rougher,  ruder  strokes  come  in  brutal 
unison,  and  yet  they  are  looking  towards  the 
429 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

light  with  fine  glimpses  of  it.  We  are  tense  as 
to  the  outcome.  Through  hushed  murmuring 
of  woodnotes  comes  to  the  ears  gradually  the 
old  call,  and  still  the  turn  at  the  end  is  terrible 
and  barbaric,  though  with  much  softened  sur- 
roundings, which  soon  affect  the  whole.  Above 
all  chime  high  solemn  tones  of  the  wood,  and 
all  rises  to  a  big  climax — not  of  despair.  And 
now  comes  the  fruit  of  it.  The  strange  ominous 
turn  of  the  call  has  blossomed  into  a  graceful, 
human  melody : 


CLARINETS  AND  HORNS. 


8ve. 


430 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

And  so  all  is  well  with  the  world  as  yet.  Pres- 
ently, after  a  stern  call  in  united  chords,  comes 
an  answer  of  light  witchery,  from  playful  siren 
figures  in  the  woodwind  against  low  droning  of 
strings.  We  must  beware  of  the  too  sensuously 
beautiful,  which  is  always  closely  akin  to  fatalism 
and  despair. 

Thence  we  return  to  the  melody  which  has 
developed  from  the  trumpet  call.  Now  the 
figures  re-enter,  as  at  first  (by  good  old  sonata 
rule) ;  but  the  herald  call  has  lost  much  of  its 
ominous  sting,  for  we  know  where  it  led  to  ;  we 
cannot  be  frightened  again  by  the  cry  of  wolf. 
At  the  end,  through  all  its  hues  and  shades,  we 
fall  into  a  clashing  strife,  as  the  call,  in  its  worst 
phase,  is  hurled  from  all  sides  in  hardest  clangor. 
If  it  is  not  demonic,  it  is  certainly  barbaric. 
What  is  joyous  to  one,  shocks  and  frights 
another.  Barbaric  it  is  ;  for  presently  it  leads  to 
a  triumphant  pecan  on  the  full-blown  melody 
with  all  the  accoutrement  of  victory. 

To  some  it  may  seem,  for  inherent  elements 
of  highest  purpose,  that  the  composer  ought  to 
have  stopped  here,  or  at  least  to  have  closed  with 
this  as  final  word. 

Adagio  lamentoso  is  the  mood  of  the  last  move- 
431 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

ment.  It  is  all  a  recurrence  to  one  cry  of  grief, 
in  the  strings,  followed  by  a  dull  note  in  the 
wind : 


Adagio  lamentoso. 


There  are  extensions  of  this  theme  (especially 
one,  where  the  last  note  is  delayed  from  above), 
and  other  melodies,  all  of  great  beauty,  es- 
pecially one  in  Andante  (in  strings),  ever  closely 
echoed  below  in  the  basses : 

STRINGS,  WOOD  AND  HORNS. 


(Each  part  doubled  in  8ves.) 


while  the  horns  throb  in  constant  time  and  tone. 
And  yet  it  is  a  mere  foil  to  the  other.  Nothing 
can  exceed  the  terrible  beauty  of  its  anguish  of  re- 

43* 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

gret,  which  grows  fiercer  at  each  refrain.  We  can 
now  see  why  it  must  come  last,  for  its  own  full- 
est self-expression.  It  could  not  be  consoled  nor 
tempered ;  the  tears  would  not  run  into  smiles. 

A  reason  there  must  be  for  a  choice,  for  final 
word,  of  a  work  that  is  not  a  symphony.  The 
music  of  Richard  Strauss,  so  richly  charged  with 
the  influence  of  the  school  of  Wagner  and  Liszt, 
offers  too  tempting  a  significance  to  resist.  The 
manner  and  process  are  here  that  must  sooner 
or  later  enter  the  symphony  in  its  broad  sense. 
Even  if  Strauss  himself  does  not  fulfil  an  obvious 
promise  to  advance  to  an  instrumental  work  of 
poetic  breadth  and  profound  art,  his  striking  ex- 
ploits must  affect  every  coming  work  of  value. 
Moreover,  his  peculiar  merit,  as  we  shall  see,  is 
that  Strauss  is  clearly  leading  towards  a  recon- 
ciliation of  warring  tendencies.  As  Brahms,  by 
the  temper  of  his  inevitable  attitude,  firmly  es- 
chewed all  contact  with  a  contemporary  school, 
his  work  is  in  separate  lines, — which  will  in  no 
wise  disparage  its  greatness.  The  younger  writer 
shoulders  all  Wagner  traditions  that  may  be 
digested  in  the  art  of  absolute  music,  and  cheer- 
fully sets  himself  the  task  of  forging  the  fitting 

28  433 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

mould,  of  fashioning  bottles  to  hold  the  newer 
wine. 

All  the  overtures  and  other  orchestral  tone- 
poems  of  Strauss  may  justly  and  broadly  be 
viewed  as  essays  in  the  wider  plan  of  form  and 
structure.  How  great  is  the  need  of  such  change 
does  not  belong  to  the  present  book  to  discuss. 
It  must  depend  on  the  proven  worth  of  these 
newer  elements :  in  the  main,  of  the  brief  motif- 
symbol  ;  of  a  certain  luxuriance  of  massed  themes ; 
of  a  special  device  of  harmonic  and  melodic 
effect.  They  have  been  already  discussed  ;  they 
must  vary  in  value ;  some  are  clearly  ephemeral. 
Least  of  all  doubt  there  will  be  of  the  perma- 
nence of  Wagner's  masterful  strokes  of  orchestral 
color.  One  thing  is  absolute.  True  coherence 
of  the  tonal  thought,  a  pervading  sequence, 
that  make  the  complete  structure,  will  never 
be  lost  so  long  as  there  is  a  vital  art  of  instru- 
mental music,  i 

It  will  be  well,  then,  to  take  a  glance  at  the 
last  work  of  the  most  radical  composer  of  the 
day,  who,  whatever  be  his  merit,  has  somehow 
centred  the  expectation  of  much  of  the  musical 
world  for  the  latest  idea  in  tones.  Our  simple 
p\an  will  be  at  once  the  most  direct  approach 

434 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

and  at  the  same  time  its  own  severest  test.  For 
all  is  new,  the  very  ABC;  the  nature  of  themes ; 
the  process  of  their  treatment ;  a  vast  field  of 
undreamt  clashes  of  tones ;  so  that,  at  first,  pure 
cacophony  seems  to  be  an  equal  means  with 
true  harmony.  There  need  be  no  prejudice 
towards  a  final  verdict ;  for  opinions  are  bitterly 
divided,  and,  moreover,  the  startled  world  can  have 
as  yet  no  estimate  of  so  youthful  a  living  poet. 

"  A  Hero's  Life"  is  the  title, — tone-poem  for 
full  orchestra.  The  word  symphonic  is  not  used. 
Forthwith,  in  lively  swing,  the  heroic  theme  is 
announced  in  free  declamation,  with  a  mere  stray 
strum  of  chord,  as  of  old  troubadour : 

(In  stirring  motion.) 


Low  STRINGS  AND  HORNS. 


— -4  -+ 
— 5*>  -^ 


It  is  all  rhapsody  more  than  melody,  where  three 
parts  are  striking :  the  first  for  a  broad,  graceful 

4.35 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

sweep ;  the  second  for  a  most  bizarre,  quick 
turn  of  notes,  where  the  lack  of  smooth  se- 
quence jars  the  ear ;  the  third,  where  from  on 
high  the  motive  descends  big-stressed  in  whole 
steps,  reckless  of  the  natural  tone.  When  the  final 
height  is  reached,  we  seem  to  see  the  second 
phrase,  of  strange  run,  in  constant  sequence,  with 
response,  to  triumphant  end : 


Scarce  has  the  theme  started  anew  with  re- 
sounding suit  of  rhythmic  vassals,  when  a  new 
scene  sweeps  all  heroics  aside  in  a  trice,  and  amid 
rich  languor  of  soft  murmurs  of  whispering 
harps  and  strings  the  high  voices  sing  a  dulcet 
plaint  ot  vague  phrase,  while  lower  voices  start 
the  more  fervent  song  of  second  therne.  Quickly 
even  this  light  has  changed  to  another  hue,  as  a 
third  melody,  of  brighter  spring,  rises  like  answer 
to  its  forerunner. 

The  woof  of  languishing  song  winds  its  sweet 
tenor,  ever  with  new  flashes  of  tonal  light. 
436 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

STRINGS. 


(Reinforced  and  accompanied  in  wood  and  harps.) 

«D«  ^ 


=°= 


T. 

(3d  theme,  with  added  horns.) 

(See  page  436,  line  15.) 

Here  is  one  difference  from  older  poetry.  You 
do  not  wander  into  slow  changes ;  they  come 
upon  you  as  by  sudden  shift  of  total  scene. 
There  seems  here  less  of  infinite  art,  more  of  the 
rut  of  recurring  device. 

As  all  but  the  fervent  theme  remains,  there  is 
almost  the  strife  of  fugue,  the  voices  rising  in 
higher  curves  towards  a  bright  empyrean,  where 
*;he  heroic  theme  now  rings  a  blast.  But  again 
the  later  melodies  interfere,  first  the  brighter  an- 
swer that  seems  to  fit  either  mood.  Here  is  a 
clear  struggle  of  languorous  beauty  with  heroic 
resolve ;  unmistakable  is  the  quick  chase  of  ex- 
pressive strain  and  the  spring  of  action.  When 
the  former  has  almost  conquered,  the  heroic  drive, 

437 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

that  was  lulled,  breaks  into  lusty  strife  with  the 
siren  song,  that  seems  itself  to  grow  fierce  in  the 
fight.  We  feel  the  growing  triumph  of  the 
virile  theme,  in  succeeding  burst  of  great  beauty. 
And  yet  at  the  height  is  not  the  original  type  of 
pure  vigor ;  it  is  the  bright  answer  of  later  tune, 
that  seems  the  tonal  idea  of  joy  against  the  earlier 
action, — Apollo  or  Balder  against  Mars  or  Wo- 
tan.  The  lesser  figures  play  about  in  a  verse  of 
exquisite  delight,  that  has  merely  deferred  the 
full  course  of  first  motive,  ending  on  high  in 
trembling  pause  of  chord  that  strongly  leads 
towards  the  main  tone. 

Here  is  one  of  the  main  surprises  of  this 
youngest  music,  where  mere  boldness  seems 
alone  to  capture  our  approval.  It  is  really,  for 
all  purposes  of  first  hearing,  a  rough  and  scraping 
war  of  noises ;  nothing  like  it  has  ever  been 
called  music.  Indeed,  the  very  directions  for  the 
players  show  the  intent,  borrowed  as  they  are 
from  hostile  sounds  of  nature.  And  yet  we 
cannot  condemn.  After  the  first  rebellion  we  do 
feel  the  subtle  rationale;  it  is  like  a  demon 
mockery  of  playful  harmonies,  grim  spectres  of 
sweet  gambols.  Clearly  the  intent  is  symbolic, 
by  a  certain  objective  figure.  It  is  not  the 
438 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

mere  wail  of  despair.  The  figures  are  a  mere 
foil. 

It  is  not  the  idea  of  such  cacophony  that  is 
new,  as  its  actual  and  abundant  use.  In  earlier 
days  Scarlatti  wrote  a  "  cat's  fugue"  on  the  theme 
of  scampering  chase  across  the  keys.  Theory 
sets  no  limits  to  the  tones  of  a  phrase  to  safe- 
guard the  beauty.  It  is  again  from  a  subtle  point 
that  form  is  seen  to  do  this,  to  hold  the  right 
balance.  Any  theme  will  do ;  and  in  combina- 
tion the  laws  are  few  and  negative  ;  even  they 
are  shaking  on  their  ancient  base.  In  contrary 
motion  of  clashing  strains  there  is  no  rule  that 
one  need  fear.  But,  of  course,  there  may  be 
no  gain  of  beauty.  The  mere  freedom  from 
theoretic  fault  insures  no  progress.  Complaint 
will  all  come  from  an  absence  of  beauty,  not 
from  trespass  of  rule.  Art  cannot  be  mastered 
by  a  criminal  code. 

The  sense  of  beauty  is  so  much  in  the  intent, 
the  hidden  sequence  of  idea,  that  in  apparent  chaos 
lie  the  greatest  resources  for  novel  strokes,  where 
the  final  solution  of  harmony  proves  the  aim  and 
the  striving.  All  the  progress  of  the  art  has 
been  gained  by  such  raids  on  hostile  sound. 
Order  and  reason  have  redeemed  the  wilderness. 

439 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

It  is  not  that  the  end  justifies  the  means ;  but 
the  dissonance,  type  of  evil,  is  seen  as  a  mere  tem- 
porary departure  from  the  harmony,  type  of 
good,  to  which  it  ever  tends. 

In  so  far  as  cacophony  slowly  gains  the  hue 
of  tonal  color,  does  it  find  a  basis  of  beauty. 
Is  there  such  an  intent  here  ?  The  desert  runs 
on  for  long  stretches  of  wildest  waste.  The 
only  reason,  it  almost  seems,  can  be  such  as  is 
found  in  the  drama,  where  music  is  often  used 
as  external,  mechanical  means.  Demoniacal 
humor  shines  in  the  grisly  perversion  of  that 
strange  run  in  original  theme. 

One  thing  is  certain.  It  would  not  be  fair  or 
true  art  to  have  a  whole  scene  of  chaos  and  ugli- 
ness as  a  foil  to  a  following  scene  of  beauty. 
Such  an  end  of  cacophony  does  not  count.  But 
there  is  here,  it  must  be  admitted,  a  slow-growing 
undertone  of  clear  color.  The  more  we  hear, 
the  less  we  rebel, — a  strong  redeeming  sign.  And 
so  the  sense  of  boldness  takes  captive  our  remain- 
ing remonstrance. 

The  resulting  peace  sounds  in  the  expressive 

flow,  instead  of  heroic  drive,  in  minor  of  main 

theme,  blended  with  a  varied  phrase  of  yearning 

song  of  the  second,  poised  over  harmonic*  of 

440 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

gorgeous,  languorous  beauty.  A  phase  of  the 
quick  motive  comes  to  give  a  new  spring  and  a 
fervid  crisis  with  cadence  of  pathos.  The  demon 
perversion  of  heroic  idea  returns  for  a  brief 
shadow.  Then  the  first  theme  slowly  lifts  itself 
from  the  passive  glamour,  and  throws  off  the 
languor  and  the  demon  pursuit  in  desperate 
bursts  of  the  strange  run  of  quick  notes. 

Suddenly  a  little  tune  of  childlike  joy  (that  gets 
its  cheery  jingle  from  the  end  of  third  theme)  rings 
out,  clear  of  all  strange  humors  and  modern  hues. 

(Redoubled  in  full  orchestra.) 


••^ 


From  this  point  is  a  long  reign  of  fantastic 
monody.  There  is  a  sharp  succession  (in  unac- 
companied solo  violin)  of  short  melodic  out- 
bursts, in  all  kinds  of  swiftly  changing  humors. 
They  seem  like  whims,  or  shadows  of  moods,  that 
come  as  tempting  visitations,  and  so  stand  out 
from  the  main  text  of  subjective  emotion. 
Again,  the  mere  directions  help  to  enlighten  the 
place.  The  lively  joy  we  last  saw,  is  followed  by 
a  sentimental  phrase  much  quieter^  that  later  turns 
441 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

SOLO  VIOLIN. 


y&Jdb=*i 

=S*g^JL_jfr_gZ 

BglEiE: 

^  .  

r  

WOOD. 

^  

^ 

-19  

(5>  

to  one  of  hypocritical  yearning,  then  glides  into  a 
jolly  fling.  Ever  and  again  in  the  midst  of  these 
fleeting  visions  sounds  a  motive  as  of  peace  and 
solace  in  fiill  choir  of  hushed  chorus,  that  slowly 


WOOD,  STRINGS  AND  BRASS. 


portamento. 


unfolds  a  growing  sequence  ot  lyric  song,  in 
various  ways.  One  of  these  impish  phrases  was 
flippant ;  then  after  the  reassuring  word  comes  a 
strain,  tender,  somewhat  sentimental,  then  an  inso- 
lent turn.  So,  with  the  quieting  phrase  between, 
they  run  a  rich  gamut  of  humors,  sedate,  playful, 
amiable,  jolly  again,  faster  and  more  raging,  sud- 
denly quieter  and  full  of  feeling,  insistent  and 
442 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

soothing,  angry,  scolding,  tenderly  expressive.  The 
quieter  motive  hovers  throughout  and  finally 
ends  the  strange  chase  of  elfish  moods  in  full 
harmony  of  trembling  strings  and  harps  that 
softly  glide  or  boldly  twang.  The  song  has 
grown  to  the  full  length  almost  of  traditional 
tune.  The  monodic  strains  were  not  all  different, 
some  recurring.  Of  these,  several  are  now  treated 
with  much  fulness.  You  might  safely  say,  in  the 
rough,  that  it  is  all  the  heroic  spirit  proving  itself 
through  a  chain  of  experience. 

The  languishing  motive  (last  quoted)  now  in 
turn  grows  to  enchanting  bloom  of  melody,  and 
still  the  soothing  strain  plays  about.  The  epi- 
sode ends  in  the  passive  phase  of  heroic  theme, 
again  in  minor,  again  followed  by  the  brief 
demon  play  of  mocking  sprites,  with  an  expressive 
farewell. 

A  new  figure  enters,  a  fanfare  of  treble  trum- 
pets, in  rough  and  vague  harmonic  call,  that 
seems  very  slowly  to  waken  the  sleep  of  the 
hero.  In  a  long  struggle,  various  of  the  older 
chance  strains  are  flitting  in  teasing  chase,  in  un- 
certain light.  Roughly  the  martial  mood  breaks 
on  the  sentimental, — at  each  big  rhythmic  beat, 
relentless.  Neither  can  be  said  to  prevail ;  but 

443 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

the  mere  strife  is  a  triumph  of  the  martial  idea. 
The  languor  has  vanished. 

Still  a  new  phase,  heralded  by  strum  of  low 
basses,  following  the  roll  of  drum,  in  firm  step 
and  liveliest  pace.  There  is  no  missing  the 
demon  theme.  But  the  old  bedlam  is  not 
here.  The  theme  has  the  order  of  rhythmic  pace. 
The  sounds  are  drawn  out  in  the  semblance  of 
tune.  There  is  no  chorus  of  imps,  each  to  out- 
din  the  other.  Though  the  sense  of  unearthly 
tones  remains,  there  is  an  agreeing  harmony,  but 
for  one  terrible  blank  at  the  height  of  the  tem- 
pest. Here  in  a  quick  chase  of  chords  the  pur- 
suer (in  the  woodwind)  has  caught  his  lingering 
foe  (in  the  strings),  in  a  horrid  clash,  where  the 
beauty  and  reason  of  each  is  all  destroyed.  On 
goes  the  rough  ride  of  eerie  phrase,  ever  haunting 
the  border  of  strained  sense. 

What  is  this  mystic  symbol,  of  shrill  and 
ominous  mirth?  Whatever  be  the  meaning  ot 
the  poet,  we  know  that  there  is  here  a  certain 
rescue  from  chaos,  a  redemption  from  the  furies. 
Elsewhere  in  Strauss  is  the  haunting  of  this 
goblin  humor.  The  line  is  here  crossed  from 
mania,  however  wild  the  riot.  There  is  in  latest 
music,  markedly  in  Strauss,  ever  this  element. 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

It  is  a  modern  vein  of  Scherzo.  A  rough  line 
of  descent  is  here  from  the  sardonic  fancy  of 
Beethoven.  In  his  Fifth  Symphony  was  a  like 
mood  in  its  place  in  the  general  plot.* 

The  gnome-like  phrase  has  given  the  main 
theme  a  new  fillip,  though  still  coursing  in 
sombre  minor.  When  the  mocking  phrase 
stops,  the  wild  strain  of  treble  trumpets  enter  the 
din.  Suddenly  all  is  resolved  in  the  sweet  song 
of  the  languishing  tune,  that  now  soars  on  new 
and  prouder  wing.  Recurs  the  chase  of  grim 
sprite  and  conquering  beauty,  while  the  main 
theme  is  master  in  the  bass. 

With  all  the  joyous  spring,  the  strife  is  not 
over.  Indeed,  in  this,  the  glory  of  heroic  idea, 
the  phase  of  stress  must  be  present,  the  very 
native  breath. 

The  earlier  discord  of  treble  trumpets  seems 
somehow  more  grateful  with  the  sense  of  bright- 
ening triumph ;  even  the  mocking  phrase  grows 
less  inharmonious.  That  third  motive  of  prin- 
cipal theme,  in  steady  masterful  stride  of  even 
whole  tones,  is  now  eminent,  in  antiphonal  chorus 
of  horns  and  of  lowest  brass.  But  the  hero 

*  See  Vol.  I.,  3d  ed.,  pp.  166-169,  226. 
445 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

gains  no  easy  dominance.  Once  more  the  demon 
plays  his  impish  gambols,  now  in  canon  of  several 
voices,  while  still  the  struggle  continues  of  mas- 
terful stride,  and  of  the  first  heroic  strain :  ever 
the  graceful  theme  comes  to  shed  the  peace  of 
its  beauty. 

Once  again  that  jolly  jingle  breaks  in,  close 
woven  with  an  extended  line  of  the  graceful 
phrase,  and  is  answered  with  irresistible  power  by 
the  return  of  soothing  legend, — wonder  of  won- 
ders— in  simplest  cadence  of  original  tone.  In- 
deed, the  eternal  maze  of  motives,  -without  clear 
tone  or  rhythm,  gives  a  new  sanction  of  con- 
tented delight  to  the  firm  ring  of  clear  chord.  It 
seems  a  type,  this  refreshing  return  to  order,  of  a 
like  triumph  in  the  whole  art,  in  tune,  tone,  and 
rhythm. 

A  sharp  line  is  thus  drawn  to  the  long  conflict ; 
a  new  turn  is  marked.  We  are  sure  of  the  sur- 
vival of  heroic  phrase,  as  it  now  sounds  out  in 
full  career.  When  we  await  a  like  return  of  the 
second  melody,  we  are  met  by  the  beauty  of  a 
new  idea, — new,  yet  most  fitting.  A  greater 
relevance  may  thus  lie  in  a  strange  figure.  We 
have  seen  in  Schumann  the  envoi  of  melody  that 
sums  the  foregoing  in  new  beauty.  Recurrence 
446 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

Hi 


(Very  expressive.) 

~ 


frr  V  f 


(Part  of  2d  therae,  out  of  a  mass  of  combined  motives.) 
(See  page  446,  line  23.) 

of  themes  is  not  the  only  means.  Indeed,  it  is  in 
the  nature  ot  true  coherence  that  it  can  never  be 
said  to  lie  in  this  prescription  or  that.  Its  subtle 
magic  is  never  assured  by  mere  conventions. 

The  whole  texture  is  woven  with  crossing 
skeins  of  this  expressive  phrase  in  a  song  of 
moving  fervor,  closed  by  a  verse  ot  main  theme. 
At  this  late  point  a  mazing  wealth  of  new 
melody  keeps  rising  to  baffle  the  quest  of  themal 
plan  and  meaning.  One  new  pathetic  strain 
grows  out  of  another,  as  if  eager  of  a  single 
hearing  before  the  end. 

We  seem  to  see  in  Strauss,  to  be  just,  a  vein 
whereby  melodies  are  developed  in  separate 
phases,  out  of  mere  earlier  germs.  The  beautiful 
line  that  begins  the  farewell,  is  a  striking  type. 
There  seems  here  a  thought  of  a  new  plan  of 
inner  coherence,  with  its  chain  of  blossoming 
tunes,  each  growing  out  of  the  other. 

447 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

STRINGS.  (Slowly.) 


- 


(See  page  447,  line  16.) 


Again  there  seems  less  stress  on  actual  theme 
than  on  a  whole  group,  singing  together  or  in 
close  suit.  So  the  old  theme  of  joy  is  surrounded 
by  a  thick  clustering  bevy  of  newest  song. 
Later,  in  closest  twining,  of  old  and  strange 
phrases,  we  seem  to  have  but  a  richer  vein  of  the 
second  phase,  that  before  was  cut  off.  And 
there  is  still  a  return  to  a  mad  fury,  revelling  in 
the  thickest  fray  and  fugue  of  the  harsh  run  (of 
448 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

main  theme),  where  one  turn  of  chord  is  like  the 
last  drop  of  bitterness. 

Final  peace  comes  in  a  purified  mood  of  heroic 
idea,  in  soft  pastoral  guise.  The  soothing  and 
the  languishing  motives  sing  once  more  before 
the  last  word,  of  profound  pathos. 

We  have  seen  that  Liszt  yielded  to  the  full 
sway  of  the  fragmental  theme.  Tschaikowsky, 
too,  made  here  a  strong  though  not  a  complete 
concession.  We  shall  see  how  Strauss  wonder- 
fully links  the  new  and  the  old  idea,  and  by  the 
plan  of  melodic  growing  from  germs  points  a  way 
back  to  normal  art.  Of  all  three,  however,  the 
Russian  shows  in  these  motives  the  highest  crea- 
tive power. 

The  lack  of  strong-knit  musical  structure  in 
Liszt  (as  well  as  in  Strauss)  is  explained,  it  can- 
not be  justified,  by  the  special  title  or  purport. 
All  three  poets  are  essentially  lyric,  though  in  the 
symphony  the  profoundest  temper  ought  to  come 
in  play.  Series  of  scenes  flash  upon  us, — lyric 
plaints,  with  intervening  tempests  on  themes  that 
have  often  nothing  to  do  with  the  plot.  Of  all 
three,  Tschaikowsky  has  most  sense  of  outer 
form.  But  of  close  cogency  he  has  almost  none ; 

29  449 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

a  sensational  riot  of  passion  forbids.  With  him 
fluency  takes  the  place  of  coherence.  But  mere 
fluency  is  no  surety  of  clear  structure.  The 
Russian  symphony  is  really  an  impassioned,  im- 
petuous rhapsody.  Only  there  is  so  easy  an 
abuse  of  words.  For,  the  ferocity  of  passion  is 
not  a  measure  of  depth  of  true  feeling,  of  a  real 
intensity.  That  is  a  truth  the  age  needs  most  to 
learn.  The  frenzy  can  come  as  well  with  shal- 
lower themes  as  with  the  great, — it  will  come  in 
improvisation  as  soon  as  in  the  quiet  retreat. 
We  must  not  seek  in  unpremeditated  art  the 
supreme  mood  or  mode.  Rather  is  meditation 
the  surer  channel  of  lofty  and  lasting  truth. 

Perhaps  the  most  eminent  trait  of  Strauss  is  a 
freest  use  of  discordant  sound,  so  that  he  might 
almost  be  dubbed  the  Poet  of  Dissonance.* 
In  the  boldness  of  harmonic  touches,  whether  in 
the  single  motive  f  or  in  the  group  of  themes, 
he  carries  the  use  of  delayed  note  to  an  un- 
dreamt degree ;  yet  both  he  and  Wagner  are 

*  We  have  spoken  above,  in  the  course  of  the  Heldenliedy 
of  A  rational  view  of  dissonant  tones. 

•j-  A  good  example  is  the  languishing  motive  of  the  monody, 
quoted  on  page  442       The  delay  is  by  double  note,  that 
gives  an  eerie  clash  of  dual  harmony. 
450 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

here  free  from  mere  slavish  dependence.  In  varied 
flashes  of  rich  harmony  Wagner  must  stand 
alone  of  all  his  school.  In  his  noblest  mo- 
ments of  polyphonic  climax  Strauss  completely 
recalls,  if  he  does  not  surpass,  the  older  poet. 

Indeed,  the  more  the  harmony  is  earned,  the 
less  it  comes  by  sensational  (and  often  mechani- 
cal) flashes,  the  truer  the  art  and  the  beauty.  To 
speak  boldly,  harmony  is  not  a  primary  aim ;  it 
is  the  mere  dress  of  a  tune,  or  the  single  vertical 
view  of  the  polyphonic  woof.  It  is,  in  truth, 
impertinent  to  make  of  harmony  the  chief  dis- 
play. We  have  spoken  above  of  a  rational  view 
of  dissonant  tunes.  Strauss  may  be  said  to  have 
carried  the  harmonic  manner  of  his  school  to 
the  limits  of  entrancing  beauty  and  of  harshest 
bedlam.  Yet,  in  all  truth,  we  must  instantly 
add, — a  mere  figure  of  speech  and  the  kind  of 
figure  that  easily  lies.  For  bedlam  is  just  what 
these  clashes  are  not.  It  is  not  a  mob  of  for- 
tuitous sound.  An  harmonic  basis  is  ever 
present,  however  faint.  There  is  hardly  need  of 
saying  that  Strauss  has  never  crossed  the  bounds 
of  ordered  sound. 

The  boldness  of  Strauss  here  lies  in  the  strained 
extension  of  older  harmonic  idea.  Yet  it  is  this 
45' 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

the  path  of  each  new  tonal  conception.  There 
is  no  chord  that  has  not  a  reason  rooted  in  purest 
science.  But  the  poet  dreams  the  chord  first ; 
the  reason  is  afterwards  seen.  It  is  in  the  lines 
of  adornment,  delay  (of  true  note),  elision,  and 
even  subtler  feat  that  the  future  field  is  without 
limit.*  Each  newer  idea  begets  a  fresh  group. 
So  Strauss  has  found  his  own  vein  of  the  romance 
and  humor  of  a  quasi-cacophonous  sound.  The 
one  danger  of  the  question  with  Strauss,  from  a 
broad  view  of  art,  is  how  far  he  may  lose  the 
whole  beauty  and  meaning  in  a  conscious  stress 
on  special  effect. 

Of  high   promise   is   Strauss's  own  way  of 


*This,  to  be  sure,  is  to  speak  of  mere  harmonic  tinkering. 
For,  the  infinite  ideal  lies  rather  by  the  true  polyphony,  that 
needs  no  special  device.  In  the  boundless  crossings  of  many 
concerted  voices,  it  finds  a  natural  path  of  endless  new  de- 
lights. Purest  algebra  will  show  that  where  all  the  voices 
sing  in  independent  lines,  the  harmonic  permutations  must  vary 
far  more  rapidly  than  where  one  voice  holds  the  melody  and 
all  the  rest  move  in  a  single  mass.  As  elsewhere  in  the 
world,  the  conscious  pursuit  is  barren.  In  counterpoint  the 
abundant  harmony  comes  of  itself,  unsought.  So  counter- 
point has  ever  found  »he  chords  ;  harmony  has  merely  recorded 
and  repeated  them. 

452 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

having  the  motives  grow,  in  separate  phases,  to 
slowly  extended  melody.  Here  he  not  only 
transcends  the  limitations  of  his  school,  but  he 
points  an  original  line  in  the  growth  of  pure 
musical  form.  We  must  never  forget  that  true 
form  is  a  quality,  not  a  prescription.  It  is  not 
at  all  needful  to  write  like  Mozart  or  Schumann. 
The  special  value  of  Strauss  is  here  a  true  and 
original  sense  of  intrinsic  musical  structure.  If 
he  would  go  a  step  farther,  would  extend  his 
budding  themes  in  pervading  sequence,  would 
restrain  an  enamoured  delight  in  single  sporadic 
flashes,  would  eschew  the  extravagant  massing  of 
motives  that  are  not  thematic,  he  would  utter  a 
true  poetic  meaning,  in  clear  homogeneous* 
beauty. 

The  genius  and  temper  of  this  radical  group  all 
inclined  to  single  effects.  Where  these  are  frag- 
mental  and  often  mechanical,  the  danger  is  that 
they  will  live  without  the  works  themselves,  like 
the  tremolo  of  Monteverde,  and  so  the  poet  be 
cheated  of  his  immortality.  And  there  is,  some- 
how, no  patent  of  smaller  exploits.  Even  Wag. 
ner's  harmonies  he  did  not  really  invent;  they 
are  all  to  be  found  in  Bach.  But  he  did  com- 
bine them  with  wonderful  lyric  touch  in  frag- 

453 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

mental  strains  of  exquisite  beauty.  This  har- 
monic process  Strauss  has  even  extended.  But 
alas !  the  jumble  of  pretty  effects  is  like  the 
display  of  toys  in  the  window. 

We  have  spoken  before  of  the  wild  error :  that 
sounds  might  be  massed  in  irrational  chaos.  But 
the  principle  holds  quite  as  true  of  the  rearing  of 
phrase  in  the  whole.  It  is  all  the  same  need  of 
irresistible  sequence.  Once  for  all  we  must  never 
yield  to  the  rough  cry  for  unbridled  license  to 
please  the  mob.  There  is  always  a  mutinous 
band  in  art  that  mutter  for  the  abandon  of 
all  law, — that  want  the  sweetness  without  the 
light.  There  art  suddenly  tumbles  from  highest 
*  worship  to  lowest  orgy, — a  farther  fall  than 
Satan's;  from  light  to  darkness;  from  clear 
vision  to  chaos ;  from  reason  to  madness ;  from 
true  feeling  to  bestial  passion.  One  who  could 
thus  profane  the  highest  temple  were  a  traitor 
to  art. 

It  is  here  that  our  modern  world  suffers  the 
lack  of  courage  of  critic,  who  has  ever  an  eye 
for  the  time  of  surrender.  It  is  here  there  is 
need  of  true  watch-dog,  who  will  boldly  assail 
the  false  prophet, — who  knows  the  weakness  of 
his  own  people.  Even  if  they  scoff,  he  must 

454 


LISZT,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  STRAUSS 

stand   his   ground.     One   great   German    figure 
still  towers  to  show  the  reality  of  type. 

Finally  in  the  broad  view  there  is  no  room 
for  complaint.  Art  will  run  its  zigzag  course, 
of  new  experiment.  Genius  is  not  a  matter  of 
schools.  It  will  break  out  in  varying  utterance- 
There  is  no  need  to  disparage  the  individual  poet, 
in  pointing  mistaken  directions.  We  saw,  before 
the  beginning  of  secular  tonal  art,  how  a  new 
plane  had  to  be  started.  The  ground  was  broken 
with  artisan  toil  and  rude  trial.  A  great  descent 
there  was  from  the  high  style  ot  Bach  to  his 
son's  graceful  pieces  of  salon.  We  can  hardly 
imagine  the  exploits  of  the  modern  school  em- 
bodied in  the  sonata.  As,  of  old,  the  pure 
traditions  were  never  lost,  were  carried  on  in 
concurrent  lines,  so  the  ideals  of  form  and  cogent 
sequence  were  preserved  in  the  later  phase  by  a 
Schumann  and  Brahms.  Thus  we  may  view 
the  Radicals  of  our  own  day  as  a  group  who 
have  widely  enlarged  the  resources  to  be  em" 
bodied  in  future  works  of  art. 


455 


APPENDIX 


BERLIOZ'S  FANTASTIC  SYMPHONY 

AN  account  of  the  programme  idea,  alone  in  the  field 
of  the  symphony,  would  begin  with  Beethoven's 
Pastoral.  Next  in  time,  and  very  like  in  plan  is  Berlioz's 
Fantastic  Symphony.  The  whole  design,  in  both  these 
works,  appears  most  clearly  in  the  light  of  those  graphic 
touches,  of  thunder  and  rain,  of  shepherd  notes  and  funeral 
march,  besides  the  full  list  of  titles  for  each  scene.  By  the 
side-path  of  such  association,  the  mimicry  of  nature-sounds 
and  other  chance  convention,  Beethoven  led  and  Berlioz 
followed  to  a  lower  level,  that  does  not  lack  its  lyric  beauties, 
though  they  do  not  make  the  beauty  of  the  whole.  If  the 
true  base  of  symphony  is  of  pure  tonal  meaning,  there  is  no 
avoiding  a  surrender  in  the  resort  to  nature-sounds. 

A  very  different,  indeed  the  highest  kind  of  programmatic 
an  we  have  seen  in  the  works  of  Raff,  where,  with  less  pre- 
tence, a  simple  poetic  subject  is  treated  with  main  stress  on 
the  feeling.*  And  so  in  Mendelssohn's  symphonies  there  is 
an  aim  to  utter  a  national  idea  by  purely  musical  means. 

The  "  Faust"  symphony  of  Liszt  has  the  new  device  of 
brief  motif.  To  discuss  its  value  as  pure  tonal  symbol  would 
lead  us  far  astray  into  the  whole  question  of  modern  music- 
drama  But,  granting  the  full  symbolic  power  of  the  motif, 

*  See  chapter  on  Raff  and  Mendelssohn. 
457 


APPENDIX 

without  a  kind  of  special  courtesy  of  agreement,  we  have 
seen  an  inevitable  clash  of  basic  plan,  as  the  play  of  motives 
bars  the  true  inner  structure.  The  real  meaning  of  music 
lies  in  its  form  by  natural  growth  ;  the  dramatic  play  of  sym- 
bolic fragments,  telling  the  tale  in  the  literal  sense  of  the  ideas 
for  which  they  stand,  cannot  agree  with  the  former  plan.  It 
were  like  telling  an  epic  in  two  languages  at  once. 

The  Berlioz  Symphony,  in  some  ways,  to  be  sure,  the  fore- 
runner of  the  later  Radical  school,  does  not  use  the  strict  leit- 
motif, though  it  has  the  leading  melody  of  special  association. 

Interesting,  of  course,  is  the  preface,  with  the  titles  : 

1.  REVERIES;  PASSIONS.     (Largo;  Allegro  agitato  cd  appassionato  assai. ) 

2.  A  BALL.      (VALSE.      Allegro,  non  troppo.} 

3.  IN  THE  COUNTRY.      (Adagio.} 

4.  MARCH  TO  THE  SCAFFOLD.      (Allegretto  non  troppo.} 

5.  WITCHES'  SABBATH.     DIES  IRX  ;  WITCHES'  ROUND  DANCE.     (Lar- 
ghetto  ;   Allegro  assai  ,•   Allegro.  ) 

Most  significant  is  the  foreword  that  precedes  a  full  account 
of  An  Episode  in  the  Life  of  an  Artist,  which  is  the  burden 
of  the  symphony  : 

"  The  following  programme  must  be  distributed  whenever  the  symphony 
is  performed  dramatically,  and  followed  by  the  monodrama  '  Lelio,'  that 
ends  and  completes  the  story.  In  this  case  the  whole  orchestra  is  disposed 
on  the  stage  behind  the  iovrered  curtain. 

"  If  the  symphony  alone  is  played,  this  arrangement  is  not  needed  ;  in 
fact,  tl'.e  programme  may  even  be  dispensed  with,  the  titles  of  the  five 
movements  alone  being  retained.  The  author  hopes  that  the  symphony 
may  offer  in  itself  a  musical  interest  independent  of  all  dramatic  intent. " 

The  composer  shows  here   exactly  the  right  perception. 
In  so  far  as  his  symphony  tells  its  own  story,  in  pure  musica! 
458* 


APPENDIX 

process,  *  stands  on  a  higher  plane  than  Beethoven's  "  Pas- 
toral." But  again  we  must  not  forget  that  genius  is  not  a 
mere  matter  of  school  or  method.  Even  with  a  stray  lapse 
in  general  plan,  smaller  lyric  beauties  of  the  greater  poet  may 
transcend  the  pervading  process  of  the  lesser. 

To  test  the  Berlioz  symphony  in  thfe  high  purpose,  we  must, 
.  in  hearing  the  work,  ask  the  one  question  :  Does  the  music 
tell  the  story,  or  merely  heighten  the  effect  ?  Therefore,  the 
full  account  of  small  incident,  in  our  "episode,"  must  fairly 
be  reserved  to  the  end,  there  to  test  the  message  of  the  music. 
A  dreamy  melody  begins,  Largo,  followed  by  more  feverish 
strains,  and  a  more  fervent  burst  of  the  first  tune,  in  full 
melodic  career,  with  free  play  of  lesser  phrases.  The  whis- 
pered close  is  broken  by  bright  chords,  Allegro  agitato  appas- 
sionato assai,  that  heralds  a  song  of  sweeping  beauty.  It  is 
not  a  mere  theme,  though  its  essence  is  most  centred  in  the 
first  phrase.  The  middle  verse  stresses  the  passion  ;  the 


Allegro  agitato  e  appassionato  assai. 


whole  needs  no  words  for  the  clear  stamp  of  a  lyric  of  love. 
On  the  first  phrase  in  low  strings  rises  a  fiery  dialogue  of  pro- 
found beauty,  against  a  new  answer  in  high  wood.      Then 
459 


APPENDIX 

the  sovereign  beauty  of  the  song  reigns  alone.  Later  a 
second  climax  is  reared  in  fevered  response  of  lower  strains  of 
first  phrase,  topped  by  a  higher  course  of  the  passionate 
motive,  ending  in  crowning  verse  of  the  pure  melody.  The 
close  comes  religiosamente  in  softest  solemn  strokes  of  united 
chords.  The  first  strain  has  not  recurred. 

Sounds  of  glad  expectancy  soon  usher  the  clear  notes  of 
expressive  waltz,  that  flows  in  its  repeated  course,  with  inter- 
mittent vaguer  play.  But  in  the  midst  the  love-lyric  sings  a 
verse  right  through  the  gayety  of  dance, — and  once  more, 
before  the  bright  close,  alone  in  softest  confidence. 

Bucolic  reeds  betray  the  scene,  of  mournful  (English) 
horn  and  cheering  oboe,  echoing  a  chance  tune  in  lonely  duet. 
The  quaint  simplicity,  the  impromptu  song  of  the  Ranz  des 
vaches,  all  mark  the  rustic  spot.  The  oboe,  too,  has  moved 
his  distant  notes  to  clearer  foreground.  And  now,  in  gather- 
ing of  all  the  accompanying  sounds,  low  strings  sing  the  main 
rustic  theme.  But  it  is  not  all  a  placid  pastoral.  A  tremulous 
pulse  pervades.  A  passionate  phrase  now  strikes  in  romantic 
depths  of  strings.  Suddenly  answers  on  high — the  soothing 
love-song.  The  bitter,  jealous  theme  wars  with  its  own 
solace.  Peace  comes  with  a  return  of  the  first  idyl. 

The  march  to  the  scaffold  hardly  needs  the  title,  with  the 
solemn  doom  of  funeral  tramp,  the  fatal  ring  of  death-song, 
with  the  sad  terror  of  overwhelming  chorus,  that  gives  a  more 
poignant  sense  to  the  single  gentlest  strain  of  impassioned  love, 
just  before  the  end  that  has  somehow  a  sudden  rift  of  hope. 
460 


APPENDIX 

The  last  scene  is,  once  more,  clearly  pointed  by  the  title 
Witches'  Sabbath,  that  begins  a  stormy  revel  in  mad  medley 
of  restless  discord  and  vague  cries.  First  of  defined  strains 
is  the  old  love-motive,  now  piping  dimly  distant  in  merry 
mockery,  over  the  dull  dance  of  low  drums.  Now  bursts  a 
tempest  of  warring  cries.  Then  the  full  course  of  love-sottg 
dances  as  before,  where  the  cheer  is  blighted  by  uncanny 
trip  of  basses  and  the  nearing  rage  of  mad  cries.  Symbols 
of  doom  abound  in  the  clang  of  bells  and  ring  of  fateful 
Dies  Ircz,  that  is  itself  distorted  in  mocking  rhythm.  The 
Witches'  Round  Dance  starts  a  grim  orgy  ;  later  the  pitiless 
chant  mingles  with  the  dance  to  crown  the  hopeless  terror 
that  ends  the  dream. 

For,  a  dream  it  is,  and  we  have  little  need  to  read  the  story 
of  young  artist,  whose  ineffectual  draught  brings,  not  death, 
but  strangest  visions  of  desires,  of  his  love  in  varying  scenes. 
He  kills  her  and  is  condemned,  and  dreams  the  full  cup  of 
last  agonies. 

Most  of  the  tragic  tale  is  told  without  the  words  of  pro- 
gramme. So  far  we  must  yield.  But  first  are  the  titles  that 
give,  themselves,  a  strongest  clue.  Finally,  to  waive  the  old 
question  of  former  pages,^  and  even  the  need  of  these  verbal 
hints,  the  mystery  soon  vanishes  of  this  magic  of  musical 
narrative.  Though  we  bar  all  telltale  names  that  the  poet 
offers,  and  though  we  grant  the  graphic  touch  of  main  line 
of  picture,  the  means  are  not  pure  musical  resources.  A  con- 
fusion is  here  that  is  rarely  solved.  In  the  art  of  the  master 
there  is  no  room  for  nature-sounds  and  like  conventions. 

*  See  the    chapters  on    Schumann    in   Vol.   I.,  and  on    the  Pastoral 
Symphony    on  Raff,  on  Liszt,  in  Vol.  II. 
461 


APPENDIX 

Even  with  lowest  minstrel,  the  shepherd's  reed  pipes  of  rustic 
scene, — the  waltz  is  ever  its  own  symbol  of  light  gayety  ;  a 
funeral  march  needs  no  master  hand  to  make  its  meaning  clear. 
The  pure  beauty  of  the  melodies,  in  the  hue  and  contrast  of 
their  humors,  may  justly  spin  their  thread  of  epic  sentiment.* 
And  here  the  main  recurring  song  is  a  true  symbol  in  the 
story.  Again,  as  in  the  "Pastoral"  of  Beethoven,  and  in 
the  "Faust"  of  Liszt,  the  intrusion  of  extraneous  signs,  of 
tempest,  of  the  chance  clang  of  bells,  even  of  the  song  for 
mere  dramatic,  for  no  musical  reason,  must  break  the  pure 
woof  of  tunes. 

The  true  meaning  of  music  lies  still  in  the  play  of  mere 
tonal  thoughts  in  the  vital  essence  of  their  growth  to  fulness 
of  organic  art. 


*  Schumann's    Novelttten,   for  the   piano,   have   a   striking  sense   and 
fragrance  of  narrative,  without  the  least  aid  of  words. 


462 


GADE  S  SYMPHONY   No.  4,  IN  B 
FLAT 

Andantino.      Allegro  vivace  e  gracioso. 

Andante  con  mo  to. 

Scherzo.      Allegro  ma  non  troppo  e  tranqutllamente. 

Finale.      Allegro  molto  vivace. 

GADE  has  been  likened  to  a  landscape-painter.  The 
simile  is  true  in ,  so  far  as  his  melodic  figures  do 
not  stand  out  in  sharp  relief.  Instead,  by  a  true  artistic 
process,  by  close  continuity  of  treatment,  by  intuitive  grasp 
of  form,  by  a  fine  sense  of  orchestral  color,  he  gives  the  whole 
a  poetic  tone,  where  it  is  difficult  to  choose  salient  phrases. 
Of  course,  this  is  equivalent  to  saying  that  Gade  has  genuine 
uastery,  without  the  periodic  strain  and  labored  method  of 
composers  of  higher  lyric  power.  So  he  must  stand  as  a  true 
tonal  poet,  though  of  a  lesser  message.  Gade  seems  to  have 
the  trait  of  naive  unconsciousness  which  strives  for  no  special 
effects,  does  not  seek  to  astonish  by  clever  originality  ;  and  so 
the  inner  feeling  is  most  perfectly  expressed.  He  has  been 
called  a  composer  for  musicians  ;  rather  he  is  for  the  true 
music  lover,  who  feels  sincerity  of  sentiment.  Then  Gade's 
temper  is  one  of  quiet,  unpretending  contentment,  a  certain 
repose  that  is  strange  to  us  Americans  ;  but,  once  caught, 
it  is  the  more  keenly  welcome.  The  only  way  to  under- 
stand Gade,  however,  is  to  take  his  works  each  as  a  whole, 
consecutively,  not  in  melodic  snatches.  Hence,  in  suggest- 
463 


APPENDIX 

ing  his  musical  thought,  the  mere  quoting  of  "themes,"  of 
itself,  is  of  slight  use.  Where  we  are  accustomed  to  look  for 
melodic  subjects,  we  find  a  disappointing  simplicity  until  we 
see  that  the  essence  of  the  theme  lies  in  some  harmonic  or 
rhythmic  trait  of  the  setting  ;  or,  again,  the  true  beauty  does 
not  appear  until  the 'discussion  of  one  theme  with  another. 
Gade  seems  to  drift  along  into  his  episodes  in  utter  disregard 
of  the  approved  way  of  ceremonious  introduction.  The 
only  help  is  to  listen  sharply  for  the  whole  story  as  it 
develops. 

Throughout  the  Fourth  Symphony  -there  is  the  simple, 
clear  mood  of  joy,  in  different  phases,  now  noisy,  now  quiet, 
exultant  or  reflective,  here  in  lightest  fancy,  there  in  quaintest 
utterance. 

The  first  movement  begins  with  the  sostenute  introduction, 
which  is  not  part  of  the  principal  melody.  Even  on  enter- 
ing the  Allegro,  the  sosteauto  feeling  lingers  before  it  bursts 
into  the  leading  theme 


in  woodwind  and  strings,  repeated  by  the  full  orchestra.      This 
is  followed  closely  by  a  sweeping,  soothing  phrase  : 

- 


first  in  the  cellos,  gradually  pervading  all  the  strings  and  the 
464 


APPENDIX 

woodwind.  The  second  melody  is  a  flight  from  the  noisy 
shout  into  the  realm  of  lightest  fancy,  all  in  the  strings.  The 
subject 


depends  for  its  effect  on  the  dancing  rhythm  and  full  harmony 
of  the  lower  strings.  Most  beautiful  of  all  is  the  binding 
together  of  the  two  melodies  before  the  reprise,  where  the 
real  feeling,  elusive  as  a  fire-fly,  is  often  expressed  indepen- 
dent of  actual  subjects,  in  a  responsive  and  harmonic  play  of 
them  all,  or  in  motives  that  subtly  and  almost  invisibly  grow 
out  of  the  principal  themes.  After  the  repetition  appears  an 
inversion  of  the  second  melody,  leading  into  a  brilliantly 
fanciful  development,  out  of  which  the  first  theme  steals  with 
surprising  stillness,  again  re-echoed  by  the  whole  orchestra. 
Again  follows  the  second  melody  with  the  same  beautiful 
passage  as  before.  At  the  end  there  is  another  lull  in  the 
strings  before  the  principal  subject  is  sung  in  triumphant 
canonic  stretto. 

The  Andante  begins  in  a  characteristic  idyl.  Throughout 
there  is  an  unbroken  stream  of  melody,  yet  not  reiterated  nor 
diluted.  The  first  theme  seems  almost  ended  when  it  leads 
into  one  of  such  beauty  that  the  former  sounds  like  introduc- 
tion. The  melodic  texture  is  so  close  that  it  is  difficult  to 
3°  46S 


APPENDIX 

separate  first  from  second  theme  ;  nor  does  it  matter  where 
all  is  melody.  There  is  no  purpose  in  quoting  each  distinct 
from  the  beautiful  intertwining  of  all,  nor  in  whole,  nor  in 
part. 

The  Scherzo  returns  to  the  vein  of  light  fancy  of  the 
second  tune  of  Allegro.  It  lies,  of  course,  largely  in  the 
strings.  The  subject 


again  depends  for  its  beauty  upon  the  rhythm  and  harmony 
of  the  accompaniment.  The  first  Trio  is  in  sharp  contrast, 
with  its  simple  diatonic  theme,  though  still  in  dancing 
rhythm  : 


The  second,  equally  poetic,  abandons  the  dance.  Sim- 
plicity itself,  the  melody  is  sung  in  strict  legato  by  the 
violins  : 


while  the  violas  sway  in  graceful  rhythm. 

The    Finale   is   the    climax  :    one    continuous,    infectious 
frolic.      The    opening    melody,    less    impressive    in    its    first 
466 


APPENDIX 

statement,  gradually  carries  all  before  it  by  an  insistent  swing 
and  spirit ;  the  second  has  a  more  quiet,  contained  happiness. 


467 


GOETZ'S   SYMPHONY   IN   F   MAJOR 

ETWEEN  title-page  and  score  is  given  a  motto  : 


B 


"  In  des  Herzens  stille  Raume 

Musst  du  fliehen  aus  des  Lcbens  Drang. ' ' 

SCHILLKB. 

Into  the  quiet  chambers  of  the  soul 
Flee  for  refuge  from  the  stress  of  life. 

Hermann  Goetz  has  something  of  the  strange  charm  that 
clings  to  the  figure  of  Chatterton,  though  it  lies  not  in  the 
precocity  of  his  work,  but  in  the  keen  regret  for  the  loss  to 
music  from  his  untimely  death.  Somehow  this  feeling  is 
almost  greater  than  in  the  cases  of  Mozart  and  Schubert, 
whose  work  seemed  to  grow  in  natural  career  to  complete 
fulfilment.  That  of  Goetz,  it  is  clear,  had  merely  begun. 
His  was  not  the  early  day  of  rapid  outpouring  of  melody. 
The  romantic  message,  of  German  folk-song,  of  rebellion 
against  classic  formalism,  had  been  uttered.  Goetz  was  born 
to  the  later  time  when  the  better  vein  of  tonal  poetry  sought 
the  blending  of  classic  art  with  modern  feeling,  the  quality 
of  form,  rather  than  the  barren  stereotype. 

A  near  contemporary  of  Brahms,  Goetz  would,  in  almost 
certain  probability,  have  joined  that  master  in  the  neo-classic 
period  of  German  symphony.  They  might  have  been  the 
Mozart  and  Beethoven  or  the  Mendelssohn  and  Schumann  of 
the  latest  age  of  masters. 

468 


APPENDIX 

The  symphony  of  Goetz  is  scored  quite  simply,  with  four 
horns,  two  trumpets,  and  three  trombones. 

Through  chords  of  horns  and  clarinets,  and  waving  strings, 
the  theme  of  Allegro  steals  in,  in  lowest  basses  and  cellos 


Allegro  moderate. 


Low  STRINGS. 


topped  with  melodious  answer  of  violins  and  wood.  The 
melody  has  the  secret  of  endless  thread,  though  of  its  own 
special  strain.  An  embodiment  there  seems  here,  in  clearest 
crystal  of  pure  tones,  of  a  spirit  that  found  other  utterance  in 
a  setting  of  actual  legend  and  drama.  A  most  spirited  climax 
breaks  sheer  before  the  expressive  motive,  the  true  second 
subject  : 


WOOD. 


an  idyl  in  the  heart  of  the  fervent  song  of  the  main  text, 
whence  it  soon  gains  a  new  spring  that  leads  to  a  concluding 
phrase,  that  sums  the  joyous  sense  of  the  whole  : 
469 


APPENDIX 


(  Tutti,  wjth  8ves  above  and  below.) 
U-^ 


Very  beautifully  the  first  melody  comes  coursing  into  the  bass 
of  the  end  of  the  third,  pursued  in  turn  by  another  entrance 
in  high  treble.  Before  the  repeat,  this  free  canon  on  main 
theme  dies  to  a  sombre  lull. 

The  discussion  begins  much  like  the  prelude,  then  it  is  given 
o'er  to  a  placid,  dulcet  guise  of  the  first  strain,  where  a  most 
expressive  countertheme  is  more  and  more  eminent,  at  first 
below  in  cellos,  later  in  high  solo  flute.  In  the  discussion  no 
theme  enters  but  the  fervent  flow  of  the  dominant  song.  And 
so,  the  idyllic  episode  recurs  at  the  end,  just  as  in  the  beginning, 
though  there  is  a  last  special  verse  on  the  thread  of  main 
melody. 

The  brief  themes  of  the  Intermezzo  do  not,  in  themselves, 
seem  the  full  text.  It  is  in  their  commingling  and  interplay 
that  the  true  purpose  appears  and  the  humor  of  the  whole  is 
shown.  The  first,  a  mere  call  of  horns  : 


470 


APPENDIX 


is  answered  almost  jestingly  by  high  wood.      Soon  the  second 
runs  right  on  the  heels  of  the  first  : 


WOOD. 


and  thus  the  relevant  beauty  of  both  is  most  clear,  though 
there  are  verses  of  the  separate  tunes.  An  entirely  new  color 
comes  with  a  third  one,  in  minor  strings  : 


sombrely  playful,  stealing  anon  into  sunnier  light  (of  major), — • 
finding  its  own  thread  of  weaving  song  without  the  need  of 


APPENDIX 


other  text,  until  far  on,  where  the  first  sings  anew  in  horns, 
and,  somehow,  a  kinship  of  tune  now  appears.  Then,  again, 
the  third  makes  playful  answer,  much  like  the  former  second. 
One  more  verse  follows  of  the  third  alone. 

The  ending  is  altogether  naive.      The  minor  hue  of  the 
third  is  broken  by  a  new  hymnal  tune, — un  poco  meno  moto  : 


Vn  poco  meno  moto. 


in  Btrings,  with  sustaining  notes  of  wood  and  horns.  Its 
solemnity  leads  most  temptingly  to  the  merriness  of  the  second 
melody,  that  now  gambols  about  in  all  kinds  of  light,  with 
answering  strain  now  and  then  from  the  first  theme.  After 
a  big,  coursing  climax,  a  new  response  comes  to  the  purling 
song  of  second  theme, — building  a  new,  expressive  tune  on  the 
simple  call  of  the  first,  growing  finally  to  full  melody,  out  of 
all  the  original  lines.  The  very  end  is  in  duet  of  the  first 
call,  and  of  a  simple,  major  strain  of  third  theme. 

The  slow  movement  of  symphony  is  probably  the  final  test 
of  the  composer.  No  pomp  or  tricks  of  scoring  can  fill  the 
want.  Pure  melody  there  must  be,  in  quiet,  contained  flow, 
without  the  nervous  throb,  the  quick  rising  storms  of  the 
So  the  slow  movement  is  the  final  essence  of  the 
472 


APPENDIX 

poet's  thought ;   its  utterance  is  the   end  of  all  the  earliet 
stress. 

By  this  high  test,  Goetz  is  not  wanting.  Beginning  in 
low  strings,  the  noble  song  winds  a  graceful  curve  of  solemn 
beauty  : 


Eg  ?t 

Adasrio  ma  non  troppo  lento. 

n  4~  ^  j 

^-J^-*1      C.     !*      »  l-*-t 

i    j!5 

r^- 

=f=±p 

N     J 

^^  |  ^ 

-^ 

N^ 

=%=M^ 

—  .  __  

There  is,  again,  a  striking  quality  here  that  marks  a  differ- 
ence from  the  style  of  the  great  romantic  masters  and  from 
any  of  their  successors.  A  certain  lyric  strain,  of  modern 
sense  and  feeling,  here  was  finding  highest  expression  in  the 
symphony.  With  the  death  of  the  poet,  the  spring  seems  to 
have  dried  ;  or  it  may  have  found  a  less  pure  channel  in  other 
forms.  In  certain  ways,  Goetz  reminds  us  of  Gade,  mainly 
in  weaving  small  themes  of  lesser  import  to  a  beautiful  tonal 
scene.  Gade  has  been  called  the  landscape-painter  of  music. 
The  Intermezzo,  here,  shows  some  of  this  art  and  method. 
But  the  Adagio  is,  all,  spontaneous  fknving  song.  In  the 
midst,  in  complete  change  of  tone,  is  an  episode  of  simpler 
lines  of  tune  and  of  quieter  humor.  The  mode,  too,  is  in 
serene  major,  leaving  tne  romantic  color  of  the  first. 
473 


APPENDIX 


(Horns,  with  obligato  strings.) 


CELLOS  AND  BASSES 


With  the  art  of  a  master,  the  horns,  that  first  sing  the 
theme,  are  answered,  in  unguarded  moments,  by  clarinets,  with 
exquisite  touch  of  dissonance.  A  speaking  climax  leads  to  a 
varied  verse  of  first  melody,  un  poco  plu  largo, — really  a  free 
song  of  first  violins,  with  pizzicato  of  lower  strings.  Soon 
the  cellos  are  drawn  into  the  melody.  Then,  above  the 
later,  flowing  'course  of  all  the  strings  breaks  the  chorus  of 
wood  in  the  original  melody,  tempo  primo. 

The  second  theme  returns  briefly,  and  is  followed  by  a 
still  bolder  verse  of  main  tune,  molto  agitato,  where  tumultu- 
ous waves  of  responsive  phrase  play  in  eager  canon.  The 
final  verse  has  the  theme  transfigured  in  placid  song  of  serene 
major  without  the  dross  of  the  earlier  passion. 

In  the  Finale,  Allegro  con  fuoco,  joyousness  is  clearly 
stamped  on  the  swing  and  line  of  the  theme.  Again  the 
sense  of  ever-winding  thread  is  there,  as  of  unending  dance. 
The  bright  motive  that  begins,  plays  a  large  part  in  the  digres- 
sions between  the  verses  of  tune.  In  the  simple  phrases  of 
second  subject,  woven  in  canon  of  three  voices,  in  strings 
and  wood,  we  seem  to  see  again  the  art  that  paints  in  minute 
touches, — that  can  rear  a  great  work  on  small  figures.  With 
474 


APPENDIX 


(Tutti,  reinforced  in  Sves.) 

(See  page  469,  line  14.) 

all  the  melodious  beauty  there  is  a  festive  interplay  of  phrase 
(where,  too,  the  answers  of  themes  have  no  small  share) 
that  gives  a  richness  of  polyphonic  life  and  harmony,  and 
makes,  perhaps,  the  main  charm.  The  lyric  beauty  of  the 
second  theme  is  clearer  in  a  later  appearance  : 


J      J     ._^ 


where  the  melodic  flow  is  freer  than  in  the  first  fugual  state- 
ment.      With  all  the  wealth  of  contrapuntal  art,  there  is  a 

47J 


APPENDIX 

gay  freedom  in  the  informal  entrance  of  voices  in  unexpected 
response,  and  a  blithe  discourse  of  lesser  strains,  where,  anon, 
the  main  theme  strikes  in  with  the  highest  note  of  festal  glee. 
In  the  midst  is  quite  a  disputation,  as  phrases,  from  second 
theme  and  its  answer,  meet  from  above  and  below, — all  sus- 
tained in  long  sequence.  At  each  meeting  they  reach  a  final 
concord  by  narrowest  pinch  of  dissonance.  Then  the  con- 
troversy is  repeated  with  changed  positions  of  the  parties. 

In  the  final  return  to  the  first  array  of  disputant  strains,  a 
high  point  is  reached  of  dramatic  feeling, — though  the  word 
seems  a  mockery  of  the  real  beauty. 

From  here  the  pure  note  of  high  delight  reigns,  first  in  the 
mere  dancing  swing  of  main  theme,  then  in  the  full  play  of 
both  subjects.  There  is  a  fine  ring  in  the  joyous  pranks  that 
end  the  symphony. 


GILCHRIST'S  SYMPHONY  IN 
C  MAJOR 

kHE  symphony  begins  with  a  spirited  unison  attack  on 
the  motive  : 


Vivace  impetuoso. 


E*E 


(In  unison  of  full  orchestra.) 


presently  falling  into  soft,  sliding  chords  in  united  band,  and 
broken  whispers  of  sighing  melody  before  the  entrance,  tnolto 
alkgroy  in  strings,  of  the  main  theme,  in  strong,  swinging 
rhythm  : 


Allegro  motto. 


(In  strings,  an  octave  lower.) 


followed  by  a  vigorous  answer.  The  theme  presently  varies 
its  song  in  saucy  humor  and  dashes  into  a  jf  cadence,  whence 
emerges  the  gentle  second  melody,  mostly  in  woodwind, 
of  which  the  answer  glides  into  a  flow  of  tender  song,  one 
of  those  phrases  which  with  the  composer  we  feel  we  cannot 
have  without  rehearing  and  rehearsing.  The  second  theme 
now  re-enters  in  more  heroic  guise,  in  full  orchestra,  with 
added  noisy  coursing  of  violins. 
477 


APPENDIX 

Poco  />in  mosso. 


(See  page  477,  line  8.) 


After  a  triumphant  climax  and  cadence  the  discussion 
begins,  briskly,  on  odd  ends  of  the  second  theme.  Through 
misty  changes  of  color  echoes  a  more  subdued  strain,  in  play- 
ful duet  of  strings  and  wood,  from  the  old,  repeated  phrase. 
Out  of  it  emerges,  very  simply,  a  new  song,  in  strings  and 
clarinet  : 


Espressivo. 


top     ^  _  ^- 

(In  clarinet  and  strings.) 


This,  with  the  preceding  strain,  is  led  through  fresh  and 
moving  changes  of  tona!  scene,  with  answering  bits  rising 
anon  to  a  climax,  so  that  the  whole  discussion  is  a  woof  of 
clear,  running  melody  rather  than  a  mass  of  comp'ex  tones. 
478 


APPENDIX 

At  the  end  of  this  idyllic  dialogue,  the  spirited  attack  of  the 
second  theme  breaks  the  spell  and  rushes  in  noisy  ascent  into 
the  introduction,  whence,  through  the  whole  of  its  varied 
course,  we  enter  again  on  the  simple,  joyrul  song  of  the  first 
melody,  followed  by  the  second,  with  the  strain  which  we 
like  to  repeat,  ending  in  triumphant  blast  of  second  theme. 

The  Adagio,  in  prelude,  foreshadows  the  main  tune  in 
sombre,  descending  chords  and  chanting  clarinet.  Here, 
where  all  is  lyric  song,  we  do  not  know  whether  most  to 
enjoy  the  first  melody,  sung  bv  solo  clarinet  in  naive  rhythm 
and  a  sort  of  Phrygian  mode,  softened  by  the  murmuring  hum 
of  strings  : 

Andante  moderate. 


(In  solo  clarinet  with  accompanying  strings.) 

or  the  more  speaking  later  theme  in  low  cellos,  with  rhyhmic 
woodwind  : 


LfrV  W-, 

Cow  espress.                   .-^             /—    . 

^=pF&»eerr  r^p^ 

^^ 

^ 

H@ 

^    oj^gi 

•££^—  M- 

^>^~ 

=nd 

(In  cellos  with  accompanying  woodwind.) 

But  it  is  not  quite  all  lyric  song.  Out  of  the  second 
melody  grows  a  phrase  that  proves  the  bone  of  contention, 
with  a  distinct  sense  of  altercation  between  basses  and  trebles, 
in  pure  counterpoint,  after  which  the  main  melody,  with  a 
new  breath  of  pastoral  freshness,  returns  to  close. 


479 


APPENDIX 

The  Scherzo  Bacchanale  is  perhaps  truest  of  all  to  its  own 
humor.  There  is  no  escaping  the  rollicking  dash  of  the 
theme,  in  violins  : 


Vivace. 


carried  along  in  flowing  merriment  on  the  motive  of  the  first 
three  notes.  The  second  theme,  growing  directly  out  of  the 
other,  appears  first  in  minor  on  strings,  later  in  major  in  comic 
cellos,  with  a  special  abandon  of  drollery  : 


mocked  lightly  by  the  high  woodwind. 
480 


APPENDIX 

But  most  of  all  has  the  Trio  the  Bacchanale  flavor,  as  the 
strings,  in  clumsy  gait,  stumble  along,  falling  and  picking 
themselves  up  : 


Trio.     Con  abandano. 


A  brilliant  extension  of  the  dance,  with  contrary  figures 
joining  in,  leads  through  the  repeated  Trio  back  to  the 
original  Scherzo. 

The  Finale  is  based  on  two  very  opposite  themes,  one  a 
true  fanfaret  in  spirit  and  in  function,  with  its  electric 
motive  : 


Molto  allegro. 


(Doubled  above  and  below  in  full  orchestra.) 


the  bass  descending  in  diatonic  steps,  followed  in  sequence. 
The  second,  in  spite  of  a  quicker  pace,  has  distinctly  more 
sentiment,  and  is  marked  legato  espressivo  : 


Poco  piu  mosso 


(Mainly  in  strings.) 


Singing  mainly  in  strings,  it  draws  on  most  of  the  band, 
though  seldom  in  tutti,  working  in  profuse  polyphony  on  its 
31  481 


APPENDIX 

smallest  motives.  Though  the  movement  is  rather  rondo 
than  sonata,  it  has  more  of  discussion  than  any  of  the  others, 
ever  on  the  second  melody,  and,  in  mood,  hovering  between 
sparkling  fun  and  gentler  feeling,  until  an  answering  kind  of 
melody  is  suddenly  evolved,  like  the  wings  of  a  chrysalis  : 


(Melody  in  clarinets  and  flutes.) 


in  clear  retort  to  the  original    (second)    tune,  and   the  more 
welcome  and  relevant  for  the  waiting. 

Here  follows  the  greatest  polyphonic  revel  of  all,  around 
the  (second)  melody,  part  and  whole,  in  changing  tonal  set- 
tings, with  a  new  and  quicker  counter-phrase  in  strings  :  the 
kind  of  passage  where,  in  the  glow  of  the  story,  a  composer 
will  do  all  the  feats  of  counterpoint  without  knowing  it — the 
only  true  way.  But  we  must  hold  fast  to  the  outline  of  the 
theme,  even  in  small  fragments,  else  we  lose  all  bearings  in 
the  dizzy  whirl,  though  here  and  there  the  new-fledged  tune 
does  appear  clear  in  a  placid  calm.  The  whole  shows  how 
a  lesser  melody  (in  official  rank)  will  assume  control,  and 
from  its  small  compass  give  riall  resources  for  varied  and 
spirited  discussion,  leaving  to  the  principal  theme  little  more 
than  the  formality  of  introduction  and  finally  of  a  triumphant 
ending. 


482 


GOLDMARK'S  LANDLICHE  HOCHZEIT 
(COUNTRY  WEDDING)   SYMPHONY 

THE  title  ought  not  to  suggest  a  peasant  wedding, 
This  would  surely  have  been  called  Bauernhochzeit, 
— a  well-known  term  and  a  most  characteristic  event  of  German 
village  life.  This  is  evidently  not  what  the  composer  meant. 
The  title  means  the  typical  wedding,  which  must,  of  course, 
have  the  simple  surroundings  of  the  country  for  full  course  of 
festivity.  The  fourth  number,  «« Im  Garten,"  is  clearest 
proof.  For  the  peasant  has  no  garden  ;  that  is  quite  a 
special  mark  of  social  difference.  A  peasant  wedding  is  a 
most  picturesque  festival,  expressive  of  true  folk  tradition. 
No  one,  if  he  were  in  the  neighborhood,  would  miss  a  sight 
of  the  highly-colored  costumes,  richly  worked,  nor  the  jolly 
scenes  at  the  tavern.  And  a  peasant  wedding  were  unmis- 
takable in  music.  We  should  not  fail  to  find  the  rollicking 
Landler,  the  peasant  waltz,  towards  the  end. 

The  country  wedding  of  Goldmark  is  altogether  another 
sort  of  celebration.  The  difference  were  not  worth  noting, 
save  that  it  has  so  sharp  a  meaning  in  Germany  itself,  the 
land  of  the  composer,  and,  therefore,  in  his  mind. 

The  symphony  is  all  written  in  simple  lyric  manner,  is 
"symphony"  merely  in  a  very  general  sense.  It  were  a 
mistake  to  read  into  it  too  many  scenes  and  situations,  too 
much  detailed  meaning,  however  tempting  this  may  be.  For, 
it  is  the  sentiment  that  finds  fullest  play,  with  no  more  of 
special  labelling  than  the  titles  themselves  of  the  five  parts : 
483 


APPENDIX 

I.  Wedding  March  (Variations).  2.  Bridal  Song  {Inter- 
mezzo}. 3.  Serenade  (Scherzo^*  4.  In  the  Garden  {An- 
dante}. 5.  Dance  {Finale}. 

Under  the  big  name  of  «'  March"  in  the  variations,  a 
sense  of  expectancy  in  different  phases  is  poetically  uttered. 
First,  the  pretty  rollicking  theme  alone  : 

Moderato  molto. 


then  contrasted  moods,  where  the  melody  is  woven  in  subtle 
beauty,  seeking  often  to  elude  all  sense  of  march,  while  keep- 
ing the  essence  of  festive  idea  ever  prominent.  Thus,  after 
first  simple  accent  of  march  comes  a  dreamily  flowing  canon 
of  strings,  poco  animate,  that  plays  into  a  suggestion  of  the 
melody  ;  then  the  march  breaks  in  full  tread  in  basses,  with 
acclaim  of  all  the  band.  Third  is  a  gently  swinging,  almost 
sad  Andante  con  moto,  beginning  in  strings,  horns,  and 
fagots, — restless  often  in  seeking  new  tones,  reaching  the  tune 
in  clear  light,  or  ending  in  quaint  cadence.  The  flowing 
obligato  of  lower  strings  is  strengthened  in  fagots  ;  the  chorus 
in  swing  of  slow  dance  just  escapes  the  sense  of  dragging  ; 
then  a  smart  trip, — Allegro  scherzando, — the  violins  leading 
the  motion,  the  solo  horn  holding  the  tune.  In  delicate 
confidence  flute  and  violin  start  the  duet,  Allegretto  foco 
andantino,  where  only  cellos  guard  a  reminder  of  the  theme. 
Molto  vivace  breaks  in  a  most  charming  verse  of  the  tune,  in 
484 


APPENDIX 

three  time.  Before  the  final  refrain  of  the  simple  march  ii 
a  very  extended  verse,  beginning,  we  are  sure,  in  church,  as 
the  solemn  organ  tones  (of  the  wood)  drone  out  a  fugal 
play  about  the  simple  chorale  that  is  first  given  out  by  oboes: 


FLUTE. 


Later  the  flutes  and  clarinets  join  in  the  hymnal  song. 
Between  its  lines  an  intimate  strain  is  played  in  soft  trio  of 
solo  violins  and  viola, — that  reminds  us  of  Walther  behind 
the  church  pillar,  in  the  Meistersinger.  The  sacred  and 
secular  strains  are  richly  blended  in  the  close. 

The  Bridal  Song  stands  out  in  the  clear  beauty  of  sense 
and  song,  throughout  all  the  verse,  and  has  no  need  of  cum- 
bering words. 

The  Serenade  is  like  dainty  madrigal  in  several  verses. 
The  themes,  to  be  sure,  have  with  all  lightness  a  serious  grace 
and  feeling.  But  between  them  are  flashes  of  fine  humor  in 
lesser  phrase  and  in  tne  interpiay  of  motive.  So  the  whole 
is  beautifully  blended  of  bubbling  humor  and  tender  sentiment, 
485 


APPENDIX 

where  each  runs  into  the  other,  and  each  is  pressing  for  main 
utterance.  The  first  verse  is  on  the  pretty  vein  of  main 
theme,  whose  mirth  and  lightness  is  not  free  from  sentiment. 
In  the  second  there  is  a  new  tinge  of  pathos  in  the  graceful 
melody  : 


OBOES. 


But  its  own  answer  has  a  true  humor  of  well-marked 
primitive  bass,  as  of  bagpipe.  Before  the  last  rehearsing  of 
verses  is  the  full  interweaving  in  big  polyphonic  climax,  all  in 
the  ancient  manner  of  stately  madrigal. 

The  scene  "  In  the  Garden"  has  the  most  intimate  shade 
of  beauty,  where  the  clarinet  tenderly  and  dreamily  begins  its 
appealing  song  in  rarest  harmonies  of  wood  and  lower  strings. 
Later  it  is  heard  in  high  violins. 

Two  distinct  melodic  elements  there  are  in  this  romahce. 
Against  the  rare  delicacy  of  the  first  is  the  ardent  tone  of  the 
second,  in  cellos  echoed  by  violins. 

Though  beginning  poco  piu  lento,  there  is  ever  a  rising  to 
passionate  climax,  where  question  of  lower  voices  spurs  the 
answer  of  higher, — and  then  a  subsiding  to  the  timid  first 
phrase.  As  the  Andante  may  be  called  the  epitome  of  a 
symphony,  so  this  idyl  is  clearly  the  heart  of  the  work. 
486 


APPENDIX 

Poco  piu  lento.  tenderly.       \ 


f)  cantabile. 

(See  page  486,  line  1 6.  ) 

The  Dance  Allegro  molto,  is  all  on  big  scale.  In  poly- 
phonic design,  it  is  profoundest  of  all  the  movements.  For 
after  a  brief  fanfare,  violins  lead  off  a  fugue  in  four  voices, 
on  the  dance  of  theme. 

( Dancetheme. ) 


APPENDIX 

Later,  as  the  woodwind  take  up  the  tune,  a  jolly  counter- 
theme  runs  in  cellos  and  fagots,  that  adds  a  jogging  pace,  so 
that  the  whole  gets  a  rich  charm  of  cheery  bustle.  The 
fugue,  somehow,  has  not  the  least  smell  of  the  lamp.  The 
more  complete  it  is  the  more  we  think  of  a  gay  reel,  with 
varying  figures  and  freedom  of  individual  motion.  Soon  the 
polyphonic  maze  gives  way  to  a  second  tune  of  united  simple 
dance  : 


STRINGS. 


started  gently  in  strings,  waxing  lustier  with  added  woodwind, 
finally  bursting  into  big  march-like  fling  in  loudest  chorus. 
Whimsically  the  soft  tread  and  the  heavy  stamp  of  jig  alter- 
nate, and  there  are  sudden  lulls  broken  by  frightening  volume. 
Then  back  to  the  comfortable  swing  of  first  round  dance. 
488 


APPENDIX 

For  a  moment  we  steal  out  of  doors,  and  are  again  lost  in 
the  rare  strain  of  the  garden  scene.  Of  surprising  beauty  is 
the  epilogue,  where  the  simole  second  tune  (of  dance) 
broadens  into  true,  moving  song,  like  festive  hymn,  rising  to 
height  of  fervent  appeal,  that  is  too  intimate  for  mere  trip  of 
foot.  As  the  original  swing  steals  into  the  midst,  the  end  is 
lu  climax  that  is  much  more  than  frolic  of  dance. 


489 


INDEX 

Ambros,  von,  1 3 

American  symphony,  an,  477—482 

Andante  :  Melody,  4*2,  69,  284,  299  ;  movement,  84,  99, 
ill,  262—3,  344»  472  (see  Lyric);  in  Mozart  and 
Beethoven,  22  et  seq.,  46,  49,  69;  of  G  minor  sym- 
phony, 45,  49 

Aristophanes,  101 

Art,  1 60,  175,  323,  455  (see  Preface);  and  nature,  141 

Arts,  basic  purpose  of  the  various,  137  et  seq.,  324,  421  et 
seq. 

Bach,  40,  241,  326,  403,  407,  453,  455 

Ballad,  218      (See  Folk-Song  ;   "Lenore.") 

Beauty  in  art,  144,  439      (See  Art.) 

Beethoven,  13—14,  16,  18,  22,  24,  31,  34—194,  230, 
247,  282,  284,  286,  295,  299,  326,  331,  407,  457  ; 
disciple  of  Mozart  and  Haydn,  53—58,  69  et  seq.t 
79  ;  humor  of,  49  et  seq.,  76—7,  97  et  seq.,  305—6  ; 
poet  of  fraternity,  98-101,  323,  378;  of  humor, 
101-3,  in  *t  !eq- i  fi«t  symphony,  34-58  ;  second 
symphony,  59—86;  third  symphony,  41,  113;  fourth 
symphony,  87—1  10;  fifth  symphony,  37,  39,  97,  1 1 1, 
113,  149,445;  sixth  (pastoral)  symphony,  ill,  133— 
152,  230,  242,  457;  seventh  symphony,  ill,  113; 
eighth  symphony,  111-132;  ninth  (choral)  symphony, 
99,  153-194 

491 


INDEX 

Berlioz,  Fantastic  Symphony,  457-462 

Brahms,  282-400,  405,  433,  455,  468;  first  symphony, 
282—322;  second  symphony,  313;  third  symphony, 
323—360;  fourth  symphony,  361—400;  humor  of,  305— 
10;  greatness,  318;  and  Beethoven  compared,  323 

Burger,  "  Lenore"  ballad  translated  by  Scott,  257—267 

Cacophony,  141,  143—4,  435  ft  se1'*  438  ft  seq.,  451—2 

Canon,  25,  190 

Chadwick.      (See  Preface.) 

Chorale,  485      (  See  Hymn. ) 

Cimarosa,  I  7 

Coherence  in  music.      (See  Sequence,  Form.) 

Content,    emotional,   in   pure   art,    13   et    seq.,  263      (See 

Feeling. ) 

Counterpoint  (see  Polyphony),  279,  406—7,  451-2 
Criticism,  178-9,  454-5 

Dance,  344  et  seq.,  346      (See  Scherzo.) 

Definite  utterance  in  music,  153,  171,  189;  in  art,  324 

Depiction.      (See  Descriptive,  Programme.) 

Descriptive  music,    136-140,  145   et  seq.,   148-9,  230-1, 

241-3,    267   et  seq.,   408,    457  et  seq.,  461  et  seq. 

(See,  generally,  Chaps.  VI.  and  IX.) 
Development,   themal,    3 1 5   et  seq.,    317,  320,   361,   464 

(see  Discussion),  371,  372  et  seq.,  447-8 
Discussion,  themal,  84,  135,  160,  171—2,  180— I,  208—9, 

217,  223,  226-7,  335.  386>  387.  4°6»  464 
Disputation.      (See  Discussion.) 
Dogma,  323 

492 


INDEX 

Dominant,  37 

Drama  (see  Opera),  178,  420,  422 

Duality  in  the  sonata  and  symphony,  36,  38 

Emotional  element  (see  Content,  Feeling),  403 
Ethical  element,  323,  378      (See  Moral.) 

Fairies,  213,  249-50 

"Fantastic"  Symphony.      (See  Berlioz.) 

Feeling,  in  music  and  in  the  other  arts,  136,  137,  149,  152-3, 

242,  257—267,  262 
Finale,  125;  in  Beethoven,  Mozart,  and  Haydn,  53-8,  81, 

103—4;   °f  "Jupiter"  symphony,  53—5,  81,   104 
Folk-Lore,  323—5 
Folk-Song,  68,  92,  124,  218,  275,  299,  375,  468      (See 

Lyric.) 

"Forest"  Symphony.      (See  Raff.) 
Form  (see  Meaning)  15—16,  160  (see  Development,  403, 

405-8,  420,  433,  447  et  set.,  458) 
Fugue  (see  Preface),  36,  483 

Gade,  463—467,  473;  fourth  symphony,  464—7 

German  humor  and  fancy,  336  et  seq .  /  mythology,  251  — 
253;  folk-song.  (See  Folk-Song.  ) 

Gilchrist,  477-487 

Gluck,  17-18,  116 

Goethe,  421 

Goetz,  /,.68— 476;  symphony  in  F,  469—476.  (See  Ap- 
pendix. ) 

Goldmark,  483—489;  country  vedding  symphony,  483— 485 
493 


INDEX 

Haendel,  178 

Harmony,  basis  of,  37,  402—3,  409 

Haydn,  13,  17,  18,  24,  34,  55-8,  79,  87,  112-3,  "6, 
196,  282,  285,  325,  451-2;  finale  of  E  flat  sym- 
phony, 55—9 

Hebrides  overture.      (See  Mendelssohn.) 

Helmholtz,  379 

Homer,  77 

Humor,  67,  76,  97  //  seq.,  344  et  seq.,  486  ;  poets  of, 
101  et  seq.,  112,  119  et  seq.,  305  et  seq.  (See 
"  Scotch,"  "  German")  ;  an  epic  of,  1 1 1-132 

Hymn  (see  Chorale),  275,  489 

"Im  Walde"  Symphony.      (See  Raff.) 
"Italian"  Symphony.      (See  Mendelsshon. ) 

Jean  Paul,  101 

"Joy,"  ode  to.      (See  Schiller.) 

"Jupiter"  Symphony.      (See  Mozart.) 

Key.      (See  Tonal  scene,  37,  378  et  seq.') 

Legend.      (See  Folk-lore,  324) 

Liszt,  408  et  seq.,  449  et  seq.  ;  "  Faust"  symphony,  408- 

420,  433 

Leit-motif,  404  et  seq.,  409  et  seq. 
"  Lenore"  symphony  and  ballad.      (See  Raff. ) 
Lied,  402 

Logic  (in  music).      (See  Sequence,  385) 
Lyric  element  in  music,    149,    168,    273,  344,  405,  422, 

449,  457,  459,  479,  483     (See  Andante.) 
494 


INDEX 

Meaning  (see  Sequence,  Form),  145,  180-1,  361,  406, 
421,  454-5,  457-8,  462  (See  Preface.) 

Melody,  45,  403 

Mendelssohn,- 230-241,  299,  345,457,468;  ''Italian" 
symphony,  231-2;  "Scotch"  symphony,  231-241; 
"Hebrides"  overture,  233 

Minuet,  27,  49,  76,  102,  122 

Mode  (see  Key),  378  et  seq.  ;   Phrygian,  479 

Modulation.      (See  Tonal,  Preface.) 

Monteverde,  405,  453 

Moral  element  in   music,  323,  378  et  seq.,  421  et  seq. 

Motif.      (See  Leit-motif. ) 

Mozart,  13-33,  S^,  45,  46,  53,  323,  331,  335  ;  andante 
of  G  minor  symphony,  45,  49  ;  finale  of  "Jupiter" 
symphony,  53—5,  81,  104;  Mozart  and  Beethoven, 
13,  17,  53—9,  69,  79;  symphony  in  E  Flat,  13-33 
(See  Beethoven. ) 

Music,  absolute,  175,  180,  185,  409  ;  dignity  and  purpose 
of,  324,  378,  407,  421  et  seq.  (See  Preface.) 

Mythology,  German,  251-3 

Narrative  element  in  music,   197—8,  201,  377 

National  element  in  music,  232  j-/j^.,  344^  seq.,  398,  457 

Nature-sounds,  141-5,   147-9,  359,  457,  461-2 

Ode  to  Joy.      (See  Schiller.) 

Opera,  178,  231,  402,  405,  457,  469 

Overture,  231-2 

Paer,  17 

Paine.      (See  Preface.) 

495 


INDEX 

Passacaglia,  388  et  seq. 

Pastoral  symphony  (sec  Beethoven)  music,  457,  459 

Pathos  112,  119 

Phrygian  mode,  374,  479 

Poetry  and  music,    175,    177,    179-80,    189,   421   et  seq. 

(See  Words.) 
Polyphony,    172,  186,  403,   406,  482,  487  et  seq.      (See 

Counterpoint ,  451—2) 
Prelude  of  symphony,    17-18,   34-5,   60  et  seq.,  79-80, 

87-9»  3'3.  325 
Programme  music,   230  et  seq.,  288  et  seq.,  267,   457  et 

seq.      (See  Descriptive. ) 
Prose  and  music,  324 


Radical  school,  401  et  seq.,  433  et  seq.,  449-455 
Raff",   230—1,   241—281;    "Forest"   symphony,   241—257; 
"  Lenore"    symphony,    257—267;     "Winter"    sym- 
phony, 258-281 

Realism  in  music,  148—9,  257—267      (See  Descriptive.) 
Reflective  phase  of  music,  207,  209,  213,  218—9 
Rhythm,  171-2,  278,  342  et  seq.,  362,  40 
Romanticism,  230,  295,  323,  331,  361,  468,  473 
Rondo,  30,  86 


Scherzo,   49,    76—7,   81,    84,   91    et  seq.,    102,   344,  380 

et  seq.,  445,  480 
Schiller,    Ode    to    Joy,    99;     translated,    173-5,     176-7, 

179 

Schubert,  87,  177,  181,  331,  468 
496 


INDEX 

Schumann,  87,  138,  195-229,  323,  331,  372,  377,446, 

455;  "Rhine"  symphony,  227,  230;  first  symphony, 

195—209;  second  symphony,  210—229 
Scotch  humor  and  romance,  236-240;   "  Scotch"  symphony. 

(See  Mendelssohn.) 
Scott,  "  Lenore"  ballad,  257—267 
Sequence,  168,  180,  216,331,385-407,449-50,453-4, 

458      (See  Development.) 
Shakespeare,  101,  102,  421 
Slow  movement.      (See  Andante.  ) 
Sonata,  36,  43  I 
Strauss,    Richard,  406,  433-455;   Heldenleben,  406,  435- 

449 

Structure.      (See  Form,  458) 
Symbolism,   musical,   41,   268,  313,  320,  321,  322,  408— 

20,  438,  441,  457-8      (See  Preface.) 
Symphony,  basic  purpose  of,  I  I  2,  232-3,  420  ft  seq.,  433, 

483;  moral  force  of,    59—60,   98—102;  entitled,    230 

et  seq.,  241-2,  483.      (See  Titles.) 

Theory  in  art,   143-4,  153,   i~7~8,  438-9 

Theme.      (See  Development.) 

Titles,    135-40,    148,  180,    189,  230  et  seq.,  408,  438  et 

seq.,  449      (See  Symphony.) 
Tonal  scene,  residence,   or  light,  164,    193      (See    Preface. 

See  Tone,  Key. ) 
Tonality.      (See  Tonal. ) 
Tone,   various    meanings    of,    37,    108,    334.      (See   Key, 

Preface),  378  et  seq. 
Tonic,  37. 

3*  497 


INDEX 

Trio,  51,  98,  221,  223 

Truth  in  art,  144,  161,  179,  324 

Tschaikowsky,   449,    et  seq.;  Symphonie  Patbetiquc,   412, 


Wagner,  243,  403,  407,  433,  451,  453,  474 
"Winter"  Symphony.      (See  Raff.) 

Words,  need  of,  in  music,  Preface,  Chap.  VII.,  153,  172, 
*73»  175-6*  »79-8o»  l85 


THE    END 


408 


MODERN    SYMPHONIES 


GREAT  WORKS 

OF 

MUSIC 


Volume  Three 
MODERN  SYMPHONIES 


PREFACE 

CRITICISM  of  contemporary  art  is  really  a  kind 
of  prophecy.  For  the  appreciation  of  the  classical 
past  is  an  act  of  present  perception,  not  a  mere 
memory  of  popular  verdicts.  The  classics  live  only 
because  they  still  express  the  vital  feeling  of  to-day. 
The  new  art  must  do  more, — must  speak  for  the 
morrow.  And  as  the  poet  is  a  kind  of  seer,  the  true 
critic  is  his  prophetic  herald. 

It  is  with  due  humility  that  we  approach  a  view 
of  the  work  of  our  own  time,  with  a  dim  feeling  that 
our  best  will  be  a  mere  conjecture.  But  we  shall 
the  more  cheerfully  return  to  our  resolution  that  our 
chief  business  is  a  positive  appreciation.  Where  we 
cannot  praise,  we  can  generally  be  silent.  Certain 
truths  concerning  contemporary  art  seem  firmly 
grounded  in  the  recorded  past.  The  new  Messiah 
never  came  with  instant  wide  acclaim.  Many  false 
prophets  flashed  brilliantly  on  the  horizon  to  fall 
as  suddenly  as  they  rose.  In  a  refracted  view  we  see 
the  figures  of  the  great  projected  in  too  large  dimen- 
sion upon  their  day.  And  precisely  opposite  we  fail 
to  glimpse  the  ephemeral  lights  obscuring  the  truly 
great.  The  lesson  seems  never  to  be  learned ;  indeed 
it  can,  of  course,  never  be  learned.  For  that  would 
imply  an  eternal  paradox  that  the  present  generation 
must  always  distrust  its  own  judgment. 
1 


PREFACE 

Who  could  possibly  imagine  in  Schubert's  time 
the  sway  he  holds  to-day.  Our  minds  reel  to  think 
that  by  a  mere  accident  were  recovered  the  Passion 
of  Bach  and  the  symphonies  of  Schubert.  Or  must 
we  prayerfully  believe  that  a  Providence  will  make 
the  best  prevail?  And,  by  the  way,  the  serious 
nature  of  this  appreciation  appears  when  we  see 
how  it  was  ever  by  the  greatest  of  his  time  that  the 
future  master  was  heralded. 

The  symphony  of  the  present  age  has  perhaps 
fallen  somewhat  in  estate.  It  was  natural  that  it 
should  rush  to  a  high  perfection  in  the  halcyon  days 
of  its  growth.  It  is  easy  to  make  mournful  predic- 
tions of  decadence.  The  truth  is  the  symphony  is 
a  great  form  of  art,  like  a  temple  or  a  tragedy.  Like 
them  it  has  had,  it  will  have  its  special  eras  of 
great  expression.  Like  them  it  will  stay  as  a  mode 
of  utterance  for  new  communities  and  epochs  with 
varying  nationality,  or  better  still,  with  vanishing 
nationalism. 

The  tragedy  was  not  exhausted  with  Sophock'.-\ 
nor  with  Shakespeare  nor  with  Goethe.  So  the 
symphony  has  its  fallow  periods  and  it  may  have  a 
new  resurgence  under  new  climes.  We  are  ever 
impatient  to  shelve  a  great  form,  like  vain  women 
afraid  of  the  fashion.  It  is  part  of  our  constant 
rage  for  novelty.  The  shallower  artist  ever  tinkered 
with  new  devices, — to  some  effects,  in  truth.  Such 
is  the  empiric  course  of  art  that  what  is  born  of 
vanity  may  be  crowned  with  highest  inspiration. 

The  national  element  will  fill  a  large  part  of  our 
2 


PREFACE 

survey.  It  marks  a  strange  trait  of  our  own  age 
that  this  revival  of  the  national  idea  falls  in  the 
very  time  when  other  barriers  are  broken.  Ancient 
folk-song  grew  like  the  flower  on  the  battle-field  of 
races.  But  here  is  an  anxious  striving  for  a  special 
dialect  in  music.  Each  nation  must  have  its  proper 
school;  composers  are  strictly  labelled,  each  one 
obedient  to  his  national  manner.  This  state  of 
art  can  be  but  of  the  day.  Indeed,  the  fairest  promise 
of  a  greater  future  lies  in  the  morrow's  blending 
of  these  various  elements  in  the  land  where  each 
citizen  has  a  mixed  inheritance  from  the  older 
nations. 

In  the  bewildering  midst  of  active  spirits  comes 
the  irresistible  impulse  to  a  somewhat  partisan 
warfare.  The  critic,  if  he  could  view  himself  from 
some  empyraean  perch,  remote  in  time  and  place, 
might,  smile  at  his  own  vehemence.  In  the  clash  of 
aims  he  must,  after  all,  take  sides,  for  it .  is  the 
tendency  that  is  momentous;  and  he  will  be  excited 
to  greater  heat  the  stronger  the  prophet  that  he 
deems  false.  When  the  strife  is  over,  when  currents 
are  finally  settled,  we  may  take  a  more  contented 
joy  in  the  impersonal  art  that  remains. 

The  choice  from  the  mass  of  brilliant  vital 
endeavor  is  a  new  burden  and  a  source  almost  of 
dismay.  Why  should  we  omit  so  melodious  a  work 
as  Moskowski's  Jeanne  d'Arc, — full  of  perhaps  too 
facile  charm?  It  was,  of  course,  impossible  to  treat 
all  the  wonderful  music  of  the  Glazounows  and  the 
Kallinikows.  And  there  is  the  limpid  beauty  of  the 


PREFACE 

Bohemian  Suk,  or  the  heroic  vigor  of  a  Volbach. 
We  should  like  to  have  mentioned  Robert  Volkmann 
as  a  later  Eomanticist;  and  Gade  has  ever  seemed 
a  true  poet  of  the  Scandinavian  symphony. 

Of  the  modern  French  we  are  loth  to  omit  the 
symphonies  of  Chausson  and  of  Dukas.  In  our  own 
America  it  is  a  -still  harder  problem.  There  is  the 
masterly  writing  of  a  Foote;  the  older  Paine  has 
never  been  fully  valued  in  the  mad  race  for  novelty. 
It  would  have  been  a  joy  to  include  a  symphony  of 
rare  charm  by  Martinus  van  Gelder. 

A  critical  work  on  modern  art  cannot  hope  to 
bestow  a  crown  of  laurels  among  living  masters;  it 
must  be  content  with  a  view  of  active  tendencies. 
The  greatest  classic  has  often  come  into  the  world 
amid  least  expectation.  A  critic  in  the  year  1850 
must  need  have  omitted  the  Unfinished  Symphony, 
which  was  then  buried  in  a  long  oblivion. 

The  present  author  prefers  to  treat  the  main 
modern  lines,  considering  the  special  work  mainly 
as  example.  After  all,  throughout  the  realm  of  art 
the  idea  is  greater  than  the  poet,  the  whole  art  more 
than  the  artist, — though  the  particular  enshrine- 
ment  in  enduring  design  may  reflect  a  rare 
personality. 

PHILIP  H.  GOEPP. 

NOTE:  Especial  thanks  are  owed  to  the  Philadelphia 
Orchestra  for  a  free  use  of  its  library,  and  to  Messrs.  G. 
Schirmer  Company  for  a  like  courtesy. — P.  H.  G. 


MODERN  SYMPHONIES 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   SYMPHONY   DURING   THE   NINE- 
TEENTH CENTURY 

A?TER  the  long  dominance  of  German  masters 
of  the  musical  art,  a  reaction  could  not  fail 
to  come  with  the  restless  tendencies  of  other  nations, 
who,  having  learned  the  lesson,  were  yet  jealous  of 
foreign  models  and  eager  to  utter  their  own  message. 
The  later  nineteenth  century  was  thus  the  age  of 
refraction  of  the  classic  tradition  among  the  various 
racial  groups  that  sprang  up  with  the  rise  of  the 
national  idea.  We  can  see  a  kind  of  beginning  in  the 
Napoleonic  destruction  of  feudal  dynasties.  German 
authority  in  music  at  the  beginning  of  the  century 
was  as  absolute  as  Roman  rule  in  the  age  of  Augustus. 
But  the  seed  was  carried  by  teachers  to  the  various 
centres  of  Europe.  And,  with  all  the  joy  we  have  in 
the  new  burst  of  a  nation's  song,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  it' is  ever  best  uttered  when  it  is  grounded  on  the 
lines  of  classic  art.  Here  is  a  paramount  reason  for 
the  strength  of  the  modern  Russian  school.  With 
this  semi-political  cause  in  mind  it  is  less  difficult 

7 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

to  grasp  the  paradox  that  with  all  the  growth  of  inter- 
communication the  music  of  Europe  moves  in  more 
detached  grooves  to-day  than  two  centuries  ago.  The 
suite  in  the  time  of  Bach  is  a  special  type  and  proof 
of  a  blended  breadth  and  unity  of  musical  thought 
in  the  various  nations  of  Europe  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  In  the  quaint  series  of  dances  of  the  differ- 
ent peoples,  with  a  certain  international  quality,  one 
sees  a  direct  effect  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War, — the 
beneficent  side  of  those  ill  winds  and  cruel  blasts, 
when  all  kinds  of  nations  were  jostling  on  a  common 
battle-ground.  And  as  the  folk-dances  sprang  from 
the  various  corners  of  Europe,  so  different  nations 
nursed  the  artistic  growth  of  the  form.  Each  would 
treat  the  dances  of  the  other  in  its  own  way,  and  here 
is  the  significance  of  Bach's  separate  suites, — English, 
French  and  German. 

Nationalism  seems  thus  a  prevailing  element  in  the 
music  of  to-day,  and  we  may  perceive  two  kinds,  one 
spontaneous  and  full  of  charm,  the  other  a  result  of 
conscious  effort,  sophisticated  in  spirit  and  in  detail. 
It  may  as  well  be  said  that  there  was  no  compelling 
call  for  a  separate  French  school  in  the  nineteenth 
century  as  a  national  utterance.  It  sprang  from  a 
political  rather  than  an  artistic  motive;  it  was  the 
itch  of  jealous  pride  that  sharply  stressed  the  differ- 
ence of  musical  style  on  the  two  sides  of  the  Rhine. 
The  very  influence  of  German  music  was  needed  by 
the  French  rather  than  a  bizarre  invention  of  national 
traits.  The  broader  art  of  a  Saint-Saens  here  shines 


SYMPHONY  DURING  NINETEENTH  CENTURY 

in  contrast  with  the  brilliant  conceits  of  his  younger 
compatriots,  though  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  lat- 
ter are  grounded  in  classic  counterpoint.  With  other 
nations  the  impulse  was  more  natural :  the  racial  song 
of  the  Scandinavians,  Czechs  and  other  Slavs  craved 
a  deliverance  as  much  as  the  German  in  the  time  of 
Schubert.  In  France,  where  music  had  long  flour- 
ished, there  was  no  stream  of  suppressed  folk-song. 

But  the  symphony  must  in  the  natural  course  have 
suffered  from  the  very  fulness  of  its  own  triumph. 
We  know  the  Romantic  reaction  of  Schumann, 
uttered  in  smaller  cyclic  forms;  in  Berlioz  is  almost 
a  complete  abandonment  of  pure  music,  devoid  of 
special  description.  Liszt  was  one  of  the  mighty 
figures  of  the  century,  with  all  the  external  qualities 
of  a  master-genius,  shaking  the  stage  of  Europe  with 
the  weight  of  his  personality,  and,  besides,  endowed 
with  a  creative  power  that  was  not  understood  in 
his  day.  With  him  the  restless  tendency  resulted  in 
a  new  form  intended  to  displace  the  symphony :  the 
symphonic  poem,  in  a  single,  varied  movement,  and 
always  on  a  definite  poetic  subject.  Here  was  at 
once  a  relief  and  a  recess  from  the  classic  rigor. 
Away  with  sonata  form  and  all  the  odious  code  of 
rules !  In  the  story  of  the  title  will  lie  all  the  outline 
of  the  music. 

Yet  in  this  rebellious  age — and  here  is  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  form — the  symphony  did  not  languish, 
but  blossomed  to  new  and  varied  flower.  Liszt  turned 
back  to  the  symphony  from  his  new-fangled  device 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

for  his  two  greatest  works.  It  has,  indeed,  been 
charged  that  the  symphony  was  accepted  by  the  Ro- 
mantic masters  in  the  spirit  of  a  challenge.  Mendels- 
sohn and  even  Schumann  are  not  entirely  free  from 
such  a  suspicion.  Nevertheless  it  remains  true  that 
all  of  them  confided  to  the  symphony  their  fairest 
inspiration.  About  the  middle  of  the  century,  at 
the  high  point  of  anti-classical  revolt,  a  wonderful 
group  of  symphonies,  by  Berlioz,  Mendelssohn,  Schu- 
mann, and  Liszt,  were  presented  to  the  world.  With 
the  younger  Brahms  on  a  returning  wave  of  neo- 
classicism  the  form  became  again  distinctively  a 
personal  choice.  Finally,  in  the  spontaneous  utter- 
ance of  a  national  spirit  on  broad  lines,  as  in  the 
later  Russian  and  Finnish  examples,  with  the  various 
phases  of  surging  resolution,  of  lyric  contemplation 
and  of  rollicking  humor,  the  symphony  has  its  best 
sanction  in  modern  times. 

To  return  to  the  historical  view,  the  course  of  the 
symphony  during  the  century  cannot  be  adequately 
scanned  without  a  glance  at  the  music-drama  of 
Richard  Wagner.  Until  the  middle  of  the  century, 
symphony  and  opera  had  moved  entirely  in  separate 
channels.  At  most  the  overture  was  affected,  in  tem- 
per and  detail,  by  the  career  of  the  nobler  form. 

The  restless  iconoclasm  of  a  Liszt  was  now  united, 

in  a  close  personal  and  poetic  league,  with  the  new 

ideas  of  Wagner's  later  drama.     Both  men  adopted 

the  symbolic  motif  as  their  main  melodic  means; 

10 


SYMPHONY  DURING  NINETEENTH  CENTURY 

with  both  mere  iteration  took  the  place  of  develop- 
ment; a  brilliant  and  lurid  color-scheme  (of  orches- 
tration) served  to  hide  the  weakness  of  intrinsic  con- 
tent; a  vehement  and  hysteric  manner  cast  into  tem- 
porary shade  the  classic  mood  of  tranquil  depth  in 
which  alone  man's  greatest  thought  is  born. 

But  a  still  larger  view  of  the  whole  temper  of  art 
in  Europe  of  the  later  century  is  needed.  We  wander 
here  beyond  the  fine  distinctions  of  musical  forms.  A 
new  wave  of  feeling  had  come  over  the  world  that 
violently  affected  all  processes  of  thought.  And 
strangely,  it  was  strongest  in  the  land  where  the 
great  heights  of  poetry  and  music  had  just  been 
reached.  Where  the  high  aim  of  a  Beethoven  and  a 
Goethe  had  been  proclaimed,  arose  a  Wagner  to 
preach  the  gospel  of  brute  fate  and  nature,  where  love 
was  the  involuntary  sequence  of  mechanical  device 
and  ended  in  inevitable  death,  all  overthrowing  the 
heroic  idea  that  teems  throughout  the  classic  scores, 
crowned  in  a  greatest  symphony  in  praise  of  "  Joy." 

Such  was  the  intrinsic  content  of  a  "  Tristan  and 
Isolde "  and  the  whole  "  Xibelungen-Bing,"  and  it 
was  uttered  with  r.  sensuous  wealth  of  sound  and  a 
passionate  strain  of  melody  that  (without  special 
greatness  of  its  own)  dazzled  and  charmed  the  world 
in  the  dramatic  setting  of  mediaeval  legend.  The  new 
harmonic  style  of  Wagner,  there  is  good  reason  to 
suppose,  was  in  reality  first  conceived  by  Liszt,  whose 
larger  works,  written  about  the  middle  of  the  cen- 
11 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

tun',  have  but  lately  come  to  light.*  In  correspond- 
ence with  this  moral  mutiny  was  the  complete  revolt 
from  classic  art — tradition:  melody  (at  least  in 
theory),  the  vital  quality  of  musical  form  and  the 
true  process  of  a  coherent  thread,  were  cast  to  the 
winds  with  earlier  poetic  ideals. 

If  it  were  ever  true  that  a  single  personality  could 
change  an  opposite  course  of  thought,  it  must  be  held 
that  Richard  Wagner,  in  his  own  striking  and  de- 
cadent career,  comes  nearest  to  such  a  type.  But  he 
was  clearly  prompted  and  reinforced  in  his  philosophy 
by  other  men  and  tendencies  of  his  time.  The  real- 
ism of  a  Schopenhauer,  which  Wagner  frankly 
adopted  without  its  full  significance  (where  primal 
will  finds  a  redemption  in  euthanasia),  led  by  a 
natural  course  of  thought  to  Nietzsche's  dreams  of  an 
overman,  who  tramples  on  his  kind. 

In  itself  this  philosophy  had  been  more  of  a  passing 
phase  (even  as  Schopenhauer  is  lost  in  the  chain  of 
ethical  sages)  but  for  its  strange  coincidence  with  the 
Wagnerian  music.  The  accident  of  this  .alliance  gave 
it  an  overwhelming  power  in  Germany,  where  it  soon 
threatened  to  corrupt  all  the  arts,  banishing  idealism 

*  The  "  Dante  "  Symphony  of  Liszt  was  written  between 
1847  and  1855;  the  "Faust"  Symphony  between  1854  and 
1857.  Wagner  finished  the  text  of  Tristan  und  Isolde  in 
1857;  the  music  was  not  completed  until  1859.  In  1803 
was  published  the  libretto  of  the  Nibelungen-Ring.  In 
1864  Wagner  was  invited  by  King  Ludwig  of  Bavaria  to 
complete  the  work  in  Munich. 
12 


SYMPHONY  DURING  NINETEENTH  CENTURY 

from  the  land  of  its  special  haunts.*  The  ultimate 
weakness  of  the  Wagnerian  philosophy  is  that  it  finds 
in  fatalism  an  excuse  for  the  surrender  of  heroic 
virtue, — not  in  the  spirit  of  a  tragic  truth,  but  in  a 
glorification  of  the  senses;  just  as  in  Wagner's  final 
work,  the  ascetic,  sinless  type  becomes  a  figure  almost 
of  ridicule,  devoid  of  human  reality.  It  is  significant 
that  with  the  revival  of  a  sound  art,  fraught  with 
resolute  aspiration,  is  imminent  a  return  to  an  ideal- 
istic system  of  philosophy. 

In  the  musical  art  even  of  Germany  the  triumph 
was  never  complete.  The  famous  feud  of  Brahms 
and  Wagner  partisans  marked  the  alignment  of  the 
classical  and  radical  traditions.  Throughout  the  sec- 
ond half  of  the  century  the  banner  of  a  true  musical 
process  was  upheld;  the  personal  meeting  of  the 
youthful  Brahms  with  the  declining  Schumann  is 
wonderfully  significant,  viewed  as  a  symbol  of  this 
passing  of  the  classic  mantle.  And  the  symphonies 
of  Gustav  Mahler  seem  an  assurance  of  present  ten- 
dencies. The  influence  of  Bach,  revived  early  in  the 
century,  grew  steadily  as  a  latent  leaven. 

Nevertheless  in  the  prevailing  taste  and  temper 

*  In  literature  this  movement  is  most  marked,  as  may  be 
seen  by  contrasting  the  tone  of  Goethe  with  that  of  Suder- 
mann;  by  noting  the  decadence  from  the  stories  of  a 
Chamisseau  and  Immermann  to  those  of  a  Gottfried  Keller ; 
from  the  novels  of  Freytag  to  the  latest  of  Frenssen  and 
Arthur  Schnitzler;  from  the  poems  of  Heine  to  those  of 
Hoffmanstbal,  author  of  the  text  of  Strauss'  later  operas. 

Or,    contrast    merely   the   two    typical    dramas    of   love, 
Goethe's  "  Faust "  and  Wagner's  "  Tristan  and  Isolde." 
13 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

of  present  German  music,  in  the  spirit  of  the  most 
popular  works,  as  those  of  Eichard  Strauss  (who 
seems  to  have  sold  his  poetic  birthright),  the  after- 
math of  this  wave  is  felt,  and  not  least  in  the  acclaim 
of  the  barren  symphonies  of  a  Bruckner.  It  is  well 
known  that  Bruckner,  who  paid  a  personal  homage  to 
Wagner,  became  a  political  figure  in  the  partisan 
dispute,  when  he  was  put  forth  as  the  antagonist 
of  Brahms  in  the  symphony.  His  present  vogue  is 
due  to  this  association  and  to  his  frank  adoption  of 
Wagner  idiom  in  his  later  works,  as  well  as,  more 
generally,  to  the  lowered  taste  in  Germany. 

In  all  this  division  of  musical  dialect,  in  the  shat- 
tering of  the  classic  tower  among  the  diverse  tongues 
of  many  peoples,  what  is  to  be  the  harvest?  The 
full  symbol  of  a  Babel  does  not  hold  for  the  tonal 
art.  Music  is,  in  its  nature,  a  single  language  for 
the  world,  as  its  alphabet  rests  on  ideal  elements. 
It  has  no  national  limits,  like  prose  or  poetry;  its 
home  is  the  whole  world;  its  idiom  the  blended  song 
of  all  nations. 

In  such  a  view  there  is  less  hope  in  the  older  than 
in  the  newer  world.  No  single,  limited  song  of  one 
nation  can  in  the  future  achieve  a  second  climax 
of  the  art.  It  is  by  the  actual  mingling  of  them 
all  that  the  fairest  flower  and  fruit  must  come.  The 
very  absence  of  one  prevailing  native  song,  held  a 
reproach  to  America,  is  in  reality  her  strength;  for 
hers  is  the  common  heritage  of  all  strains  of  song. 
And  it  may  be  her  destiny  to  lead  in  the  glorious 
merging  of  them  all. 

14 


CHAPTER  II 
BERLIOZ  AND  LISZT 

fflHE  path  of  progress  of  an  art  has  little  to  do 
M.  with  mere  chronology.  For  here  in  early  days 
are  bold  spirits  whose  influence  is  not  felt  until  a 
whole  generation  has  passed  of  a  former  tradition. 
Nor  are  these  patient  pioneers  always  the  best- 
inspired  prophets ;  the  mere  fate  of  slow  recognition 
does  not  imply  a  highest  genius.  A  radical  innova- 
tion may  provoke,  a  just  and  natural  resistance. 
Again,  a  gradual  yielding  is  not  always  due  to  the 
pure  force  of  truth.  Strange  and  oblique  ideas  may 
slowly  win  a  triumph  that  is  not  wholly  merited  and 
may  not  prove  enduring. 

To  fully  grapple  with  this  mystery,  we  may  still 
hold  to  the  faith  that  final  victory  comes  only  to 
pure  truth,  and  yet  we  may  find  that  imperfect  truth 
will  often  achieve  a  slow  and  late  acceptance.  The 
victory  may  then  be  viewed  in  either  of  two  ways :  the 
whole  spirit  of  the  age  yields  to  the  brilliant  allure- 
ment^ or  there  is  an  overweighing  balance  of  true 
beauty  that  deserves  the  prize  of  permanence.  Of  such 
a  kind  were  two  principal  composers  of  the  symphony : 
Franz  Liszt  and  Hector  Berlioz.  Long  after  they  had 
wrought  their  greatest  works,  others  had  come  and 
15 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

gone  in  truer  line  with  the  first  masters,  until  it 
seemed  these  radical  spirits  had  been  quite  rejected. 

Besides  the  masters  of  their  own  day,  Schumann 
and  Mendelssohn,  a  group  of  minor  poets,  like  Eaff 
and  Goetz,  appeared,  and  at  last  Brahms,  the  latest 
great  builder  of  the  symphony,  all  following  and 
crowning  the  classical  tradition. 

The  slow  reception  of  the  larger  works  of  Liszt 
strangely  agrees  with  the  startling  resemblance  of 
their  manner  to  the  Russian  style  that  captivated  a 
much  later  age.  It  seemed  as  if  the  spirit  of  the  Hun- 
garian was  suddenly  revived  in  a  new  national  group. 
His  humor  wonderfully  suited  the  restless  and  sensa- 
tional temper  of  an  age  that  began  after  his  death. 

The  very  harmonies  and  passionate  manner  that 
influence  modern  audiences  evoked  a  dull  indifference 
in  their  own  day.*  They  roused  the  first  acclaim 
when  presented  in  the  more  popular  form  of  the 
music-drama.  It  may  well  be  questioned  whether 
Liszt  was  not  the  fountain  source  of  the  characteristic 
harmonies  of  Wagner's  later  opera. 

Historically  considered,  that  is  in  their  relation 
to  other  music  preceding  and  following  them,  the 
symphonies  of  Liszt  have  striking  interest.  They  are 
in  boldest  departure  from  all  other  symphonies,  save 
possibly  those  of  Berlioz,  and  they  were  prophetic  in 


*  Compare  the  similarity  of  the  themes  of  the  Faust 
Symphony  of  Liszt  and  of  the  Pathttique  of  Tschaikowsky 
in  the  last  chapter  of  vol.  ii,  "  Symphonies  and  Their 
Meaning." 

16 


BERLIOZ  AND  LISZT 

a  degree  only  apparent  a  half-century  later.  If  the 
quality  of  being  ahead  of  his  time  be  proof,  instead 
of  a  symptom,  of  genius,  then  Liszt  was  in  the  first 
rank  of  masters.  The  use  of  significant  motif  is  in. 
both  of  his  symphonies.  But  almost  all  the  traits 
that  startled  and  moved  the  world  in  Tschaikowsky's 
symphonies  are  revealed  in  this  far  earlier  music: 
the  tempestuous  rage  of  what  might  be  called  an 
hysterical  school,  and  the  same  poignant  beauty  of 
the  lyric  episodes ;  the  sheer  contrast,  half  trick,  half 
natural,  of  fierce  clangor  and  dulcet  harmonies,  all 
painted  with  the  broad  strokes  of  the  orchestral 
palette.  Doubly  striking  it  is  how  Liszt  foreshadowed 
his  later  followers  and  how  he  has  really  overshadowed 
them;  not  one,  down  to  the  most  modern  tone- 
painters,  has  equalled  him  in  depth  and  breadth  of 
design,  in  the  original  power  of  his  tonal  symbols. 
It  seems  that  Liszt  will  endure  as  the  master-spirit  in 
this  reactionary  phase  of  the  symphony. 

Berlioz  is  another  figure  of  a  bold  innovator, 
whose  career  seemed  a  series  of  failures,  yet  whose 
music  will  not  down.  His  art  was  centred  less  upon 
the  old  essentials,  of  characteristic  melody  and  soul- 
stirring  harmonies,  than  upon  the  magic  strokes  of 
new  instrumental  grouping, — a  graphic  rather  than 
a  pure  musical  purpose.  And  so  he  is  the  father  not 
only  of  the  modern  orchestra,  but  of  the  fashion 
of  the  day  that  revels  in  new  sensations  of  startling 
effects,  that  are  spent  in  portraying  the  events  of  a 
story. 

Berlioz  was  the  first  of  a  line  of  virtuosi  of  the 
2  17 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

orchestra,  a  pioneer  in  the  art  of  weaving  significant 
strains, — significant,  that  is,  apart  from  the  music. 
He  was  seized  with  the  passion  of  making  a  pictured 
design  with  his  orchestral  colors.  Music,  it  seems, 
did  not  exist  for  Berlioz  except  for  the  telling  of  a 
story.  His  symphony  is  often  rather  opera.  A 
symphony,  he  forgot,  is  not  a  musical  drama  without 
the  scenery.  This  is  just  what  is  not  a  symphony. 
It  is  not  the  literal  story,  but  the  pure  musical  utter- 
ance. Thus  Berlioz's  "  Romeo  and  Juliet "  symphony 
is  in  its  design  more  the  literal  story  than  is  Shake- 
speare's play.  And  yet  there  is  ever  a  serious  nobility, 
a  heroic  reach  in  the  art  of  Berlioz,  where  he  stands 
almost  alone  among  the  composers  of  his  race.  Here, 
probably,  more  than  in  his  pictured  stories,  lies  the 
secret  of  his  endurance.  He  was,  other  than  his  fol- 
lowers, ever  an  idealist.  And  so,  when  we  are  on  the 
point  of  condemning  him  as  a  scene-painter,  we  sud- 
denly come  upon  a  stretch  of  pure  musical  beauty, 
that  flowed  from  the  unconscious  rapture  of  true 
poet.  As  the  bee  sucks,  so  may  we  cull  the  stray 
beauty  and  the  more  intimate  meaning,  despite  and 
aside  from  this  outer  intent. 


18 


CHAPTER  III 

BERLIOZ.     "  ROMEO  AND  JULIET." 
DRAMATIC   SYMPHONY 

IN  the  sub-title  we  see  the  growing  impulse  towards 
graphic  music.  A  "  dramatic  symphony  "  is  not 
promising.  For,  if  music  is  the  most  subjective  ex- 
pression of  the  arts,  why  should  its  highest  form  be 
used  to  dramatize  a  drama?  Without  the  aid  of 
scene  and  actors,  that  were  needed  by  the  original 
poet,  the  artisan  in  absolute  tones  attempts  his  own 
theatric  rendering.  Clearly  this  symphony  is  one 
of  those  works  of  art  which  within  an  incongruous 
form  (like  certain  ancient  pictures)  affords  episodes 
of  imperishable  beauty. 

Passing  by  the  dramatic  .episodes  that  are  strung 
on  the  thread  of  the  story,  AVC  dwell,  according  to  our 
wont,  on  the  stretches  where  a  pure  musical  utterance 
rises  to  a  lofty  height  of  pathos  or  of  rarest  fantasy. 

In  the  first  scene  of  the  Second  Part  is  the  clear 
intent  of  a  direct  tonal  expression,  and  there  is  a  sus- 
tained thread  of  sincere  sentiment.  The  passion  of 
Romeo  shines  in  the  purity  rather  than  in  the  inten- 
sity of  feeling.  The  scene  has  a  delicate  series  of 
moods,  with  subtle  melodic  touches  and  dramatic 
surprises  of  chord  and  color.  The  whole  seems  a 
reflection  of  RomeVs  humor,  the  personal  (Allegro) 
19 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


theme  being  the  symbol  as  it  roams  throughout  the 
various  phases,  —  the  sadness  of  solitude,  the  feverish 
thrill  of  the  ball.  Into  the  first  phrase  of  straying 
violins  wanders  the  personal  motive,  sadly  meditative. 


*Jt-^¥ 


Allegro. 


(Choir  of  wood,. with 
sustained  chords  of  strings) 


Sweeter  dreams  now  woo  the  muser,  warming  into 
passion,  pulsing  with  a  more  eager  throb  of  desirr. 
in  changed  tone  and  pace.  Suddenly  in  a  new  quar- 
ter amid  a  quick  strum  of  dance  the  main  motive 
hurries  along.  The  gay  sounds  vanish,  ominous 
almost  in  the  distance.  The  sadness  of  the  lover 
now  sings  unrestrained  in  expressive  melody  (of 
oboe),  in  long  swinging  pace,  while  far  away  rumbles 
the  beat  of  festive  drum. 

The  song  rises  in  surging  curves,  but  die?  away 
20 


BERLIOZ.     "ROMEO  AND  JULIET" 

among  the  quick  festal  sounds,  where  the  personal 
motive  is  still  supreme,  chasing  its  own  ardent  antics, 
and  plunges  headlong  into  the  swjrl  of  dance.  '-i\  ; 
II  Penseroso  (in  his  personal  role)  has  glided  into 
a  buoyant,  rollicking  Allegro  with  joyous  answer. 
Anon  the  outer  revel  breaks  in  with  shock  almost  of 
terror.  And  now  in  climax  of  joy,  through  the  festal 
strum  across  the  never-ceasing  thread  of  transformed 
meditation  resound  in  slowest,  broadest  swing  the 

Larghetto  espressivo  ^-^  . 

(Ob.  with  fl.  and  el. 
and  arpeggio  cellos) 

warm  tones  of  the  love-song  in  triumph  o£  bliss.* 
As  the  song  dies  away,  the  festal  sounds  fade.  Grim 
meditation  returns  in  double  figure,— the  slower, 
heavier  pace  below.  Its  shadows  are  all  about  as  in 
a  fugue  of  fears,  flitting  still  to  the  tune  of  the  dance 
and  anon  yielding  before  the  gaiety.  But  through  the 
returning  festal  ring  the  fateful  motive  is  still  stray- 
ing in  the  bass.  In  the  concluding  revel  the  hue  of 
meditation  is  not  entirely  banned. 

The  Shakespearian  love-drama  thus  far  seems  to  be 
celebrated  in  the  manner  of  a  French  romance.  After 
all,  the  treatment  remains  scenic  in  the  main;  the 

*  In  unison  of  the  wind.     Berlioz  has  here  noted  in  the 
score    ''  Reunion    dfs    deux    Themes,    du    Larghctto    ft    dc 
L' Allegro,"    the    second    and    first    of    our    cited    phrase*. 
21 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

feeling  is  diluted,  as  it  were,  not  intensified  by  the 
music. 

The  stillness  of  night  and  the  shimmering  moon- 
light are  in  the  delicate  harmonies  of  (Allegretto) 
strings.  A  lusty  song  of  departing  revellers  breaks 
upon  the  scene.  The  former  distant  sounds  of  feast 
are  now  near  and  clear  in  actual  words. 


r.i 

(Piz:.  basses  an  8ve.  lower) 

There  is  an  intimate  charm,  a  true  glamor  of  love- 
idyll  about  the  Adagio.  On  more  eager  pulse  rises 
a  languorous  strain  of  horn  and  cellos.  The  flow 

(Horn  and  cellos  with  murmuring  strings) 


of  its  passionate  phrase  reaches  the  climax  of  pro- 
logue where,  the  type  and  essence  of  the  story,  it 
plays  about  the  lovers'  first  meeting.  As  1  own- 
strings  hum  the  burden  of  desire,  higher  wood  add 
touches  of  ecstasy,  the  melting  violins  sing  the  woo- 
ing song,  and  all  break  into  an  overwhelming  rapture, 
22 


BERLIOZ.     "  IIOMEO  AND  JULIET  " 

as  though  transfigured  in  the  brightness  of  its  own 
vehemence,  in  midst  of  a  trembling  mystery. 

The  restless  spirit  starts  (allegro  agitato)  in  fear- 
some agitation  on  quick  nervous  throb  of  melody; 
below,  violas  sing  a  soothing  answer ;  there  is  a  clear 
dialogue  of  wistful  lovers. 

Instead  of  the  classic  form  of  several  verses  led 
by  one  dominant  melody  to  varied  paths  and  views, 
here  almost  in  reverse  we  seem  to  fall  from  a  broader 
lyric  mood  to  a  single  note  of  sad  yearning  that 

(Fl.  with  Eng.  horn  an  Sve.  below) 


"-r:  rm^  nrg|  ^^ 

tained  lower  f)  espress. 
etriags) 

grows  out  of  the  several  strains.  Upon  such  a  motive 
a  new  melody  sings.  The  delicate  bliss  of  early  love 
is  all  about,  and  in  the  lingering  close  the  timid 
ecstasies  of  wooing  phrase.  But  this  is  a  mere  pre- 
lude to  the  mrre  highly  Stressed,  vehement  song  of 
love  that  follows  on  the  same  yearning  motive.  Here 
is  the  crowning,  summing  phase  of  the  whole  poem, 
without  a  return  to  earlier  melody  save  that,  by  sig- 
nificant touch,  it  ends  in  the  same  expressive  turn 
as  the  former  languorous  song. 

The  first  melody  does  not  reappear,  is  thus  a  kind 
23 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

of  background  of  the  scene.  The  whole  is  a  dramatic 
lyric  that  moves  from  broader  tune  to  a  reiterated 
note  of  sad  desire,  driven  to  a  splendid  height  of 
crowned  bliss.  The  turbulence  of  early  love  is  there; 
pure  ardor  in  flaming  tongues  of  ecstasy ;  the  quick 
turn  of  mood  and  the  note  of  omen  of  the  original 
poem:  the  violence  of  early  love  and  the  fate  that 
hangs  over. 

Berlio/  has  drawn  the  subject  of  his  Scherzo  from 
Mercutio's  speech  in  Scene  4  of  the  First  Act  of 
Shakespeare's  tragedy.  He  has  entitled  it  "  Queen 
Mab,  or  the  Fairy  of  Dreams,"  and  clearly  intends 
to  portray  the  air}'  flight  of  Mab  and  her  fairies. 
But  we  must  doubt  whether  this,  the  musical  gem  of 
the  symphony,  has  a  plan  that  is  purely  graphic, — 
rather  does  it  seem  to  soar  beyond  those  concrete 
limits  to  an  utterance  of  the  sense  of  dreams  them- 
selves in  the  spirit  of  Mercutio's  conclusion : 

"...     I  talk  of  dreams 
Which  are  the  children  of  an  idle  brain, 
Begot  of  nothing  but  vain  fantasy; 
Which  is  as  thin  of  substance  as  the  air:  " 

And  we  may  add,  as  elusive  for  the  enchanted  mind 
to  hold '  are  these  pranks  and  brilliant  parade  of 
tonal  sprites.  It  stands  one  of  the  masterpieces 
of  program-music,  in  equal  balance  of  pure  beauty 
with  the  graphic  plan. 

Imps  they  are,  these  flitting  figures,  almost  insects 
with    a   personality.     In   pace   there   is   a   division, 
24 


BERLIOZ.     "ROMEO  AND  JULIET" 

trhere  the  first  dazzling  speed  is  simply  the  fairy 
rhythm  (halted  anon  by  speaking  pauses  or  silences), 
and  the  second,  a  kind  of  idyll  or  romance  in  minia- 
ture. It  is  all  a  drama  of  fairy  actors,  in  a  dream- 
land of  softest  tone.  The  main  figure  leads  its 
troop  on  gossamer  thread  of  varied  journey. 

(Violins) 
Prestissimo  . 


Almost  frightening  in  the  quickest,  pulsing  motion 
is  the  sudden  stillness,  as  the  weird  poising  of  trem- 
bling sprites.  Best  of  all  is  the  resonant  beauty  of 
the  second  melody  in  enchanting  surprise  of  tone. 


Anon,  as  in  a  varied  dance,  the  skipping,  mincing 
step  is  followed  by  a  gentle  swaying;  or  the  figures 
all  run  together  down  the  line  to  start  the  first  dance 
again,  or  the  divided  groups  have  different  motions, 
or  one  shouts  a  sudden  answer  to  the  other. 

Much  slower  now  is  the  main  song  (in  flute  and 
25 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

English  horn)  beneath  an  ariel  harmony  (of  over- 
tones), while  a  quicker  trip  begins  below  of  the  same 
figure.  And  in  the  midst  is  a  strange  concert  of  low 
dancing  strings  with  highest  tones  of  harp,  —  strange 
mating  of  flitting  sprites. 

We  are  suddenly  back  in  the  first,  skipping  dance, 
ever  faster  and  brighter  in  dazzling  group  of  lesser 
figures.  And  here  is  the  golden  note  of  fairy-land,  — 
the  -horn  in  soft  cheery  hunter's  lay,  answered  by  echo- 
ing voices.  For  a  moment  the  call  is  tipped  with 
touch  of  sadness,  then  rings  out  brightly  in  a  new 
quarter.  Beautiful  it  sings  between  the  quick 
phrases,  with  a  certain  shock  of  change,  and  there 
is  the  terror  of  a  sudden  low  rumbling  and  the  thrill 
of  new  murmuring  sounds  with  soft  beat  of  drum 
that  hails  the  gathering  fairies.  There  is  a  sudden 
clarion  burst  of  the  whole  chorus,  with  clash  of  drum 
and  olajig  of  brass,  and  sudden  pause,  then  faintest 
echoes  of  higher  voices. 

A  new  figure  now  dances  a  joyous  measure  to  the 
tinkling  of  harp  and  the  sparkling  strokes  of  high 


(  Harp  ia.  higher  8ve.) 


BERLIOZ.     "ROMEO  AND  JULIET" 

cymbals  and  long  blown  tone  of  horns.  The  very 
essence  it  is  of  fairy  life.  And  so  the  joy  is  not  un- 
mixed with  just  a  touch  of  awe.  Amidst  the  whole 
tintinnabulation  is  a  soft  resonant  echo  of  horns 
below,  like  an  image  in  a  lake.  The  air  hangs  heavy 
with  dim  romance  until  the  sudden  return  to  first 
fairy  verse  in  sounds  almost  human.  Once  more 
come  the  frightening  pauses. 

The  end  is  in  a  great  crash  of  sweet  sound — a  glad 
awakening  to  dav  and  to  reality. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  SYMPHONY  TO  DANTE'S  "DIVINA 
COMMEDIA  " 

FOR  ORCHESTRA  AND  CHORUS  OF  SOPRANOS 
AND  ALTOS 

"  Divina  Commedia  "  may  be  said  in  a  broad 
view  to  belong  to  the  great  design  by  which 
Christian  teaching  was  brought  into  relation  with 
earlier  pagan  lore.  The  subject  commands  all  the 
interest  of  the  epics  of  Virgil  and  of  Milton.  It  must 
be  called  the  greatest  Christian  poem  of  all  times,  and 
the  breadth  of  its  appeal  and  of  its  art  specially 
attest  the  age  in  which  it  was  written,  when  classic 
pagan  poetry  broke  upon  the  world  like  a  great 
treasure-trove. 

The  subject  was  an  ideal  one  in  Dante's  time, — 
a  theme  convincing  and  contenting  to  all  the  world, 
and,  besides,  akin  to  the  essence  of  pagan  poetry. 
The  poet  was  needed  to  celebrate  all  the  phases  of  its 
meaning  and  beauty.  This  is  true  of  all  flashes  of 
evolutionary  truth.  As  in  the  ancient  epics,  an  idea 
once  real  to  the  world  may  be  enshrined  in  a  design 
of  immortal  art. 

To-day  we  are  perhaps  in  too  agnostic  a  state  to 
be  absorbed  by  such  a  contemplation.  The  subject 
in  a  narrower  sense  is  true  at  most  to  those  who 
will  to  cherish  the  solace  of  a  salvation  which  they 


DANTE:S  -DIVINA  COMMEDIA" 

have  not  fully  apprehended.  And  so  the  Liszt  sym- 
phony of  the  nineteenth  century  is  not  a  complete 
reflection  of  the  Dante  poem  of  the  fourteenth.  It 
becomes  for  the  devout  believer  almost  a  kind  of 
church-liturgy, — a  Mass  by  the  Abbe  Liszt. 

Rare  qualities  there  undoubtedly  are  in  the  music: 
a  reality  of  passion;  a  certain  simplicity  of  plan; 
the  sensuous  beauty  of  melodic  and  harmonic  touches. 
But  a  greatness  in  the  whole  musical  expression  that 
may  approach  the  grandeur  of  the  poem,  could  only 
come  in  a  suggestion  of  symbolic  truth ;  and  here  the 
composer  seems  to  fail  by  a  too  close  clinging  to 
ecclesiastic  ritual.  Yet  in  the  agony  of  remorse,  ris- 
ing from  hopeless  woe  to  a  chastened  worship  of  the 
light,  is  a  strain  of  inner  truth  that  will  leave  the 
work  for  a  long  time  a  hold  on  human  interest. 

Novel  is  the  writing  of  words  in  the  score,  as  if 
they  are  to  be  sung  by  the  instruments, — all  sheer 
aside  from  the  original  purpose  of  the  form.  Page 
after  page  has  its  precise  text;  we  hear  the  shrieks 
of  the  damned,  the  dread  inscription  of  the  infernal 
portals;  the  sad  lament  of  lovers;  the  final  song  of 
praise  of  the  redeemed.  A  kind  of  picture-book 
music  has  our  symphony  become.  The  leit-motif  has 
crept  into  the  high  form  of  absolute  tones  to  make 
it  as  definite  and  dramatic  as  any  opera. 

I.     INFERNO 

The  legend  of  the  portal  is  proclaimed  at  the  outset 
in  a  rising  phrase   (of  the  low  brass  and  strings) 
29 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 
(Doubled  in  two  lower  8ves.) 


m :i— •*^_i^- 

ff  (3  trombones  and  tuba: 
violas,  cellos  and  brass) 

Per  me  ei  va  nella  cit-ta  do-lente; 
Per  me  si  va  nelV  eterno  dolore; 

and  in  still  higher  chant — 

Per  me  si  va  tra  la  perduta  genie. 

Then,  in  antiphonal  blast  of  horns  and  trumpets 
sounds  the  fatal  doom  in  grim  monotone  (in  de- 
scending harmony  of  trembling  strings)  : 

(Chant  in  octaves  of  trumpets  and  horns) 


(Brass,  wood  and  tremolo  strings) 

Lasciate  ogni  spcranza  mi  ch'  entratel  * 

A  tumult  on  a  sigh  (from  the  first  phrase)  rises 
again  and  again  in  gusts.  In  a  violent  paroxysm 
we  hear  the  doom  of  the  monotone  in  lowest  horns. 

*  "  Through  me  the  way  ia  to  the  city  dolent; 
Through  me  the  way  is  to  eternal  dole; 
Through  me  the  way  among  the  people  lost. 
All  hope  abandon,  ye  who  enter  in!  " 

— From  Longfellow's  translation. 


DANTE'S  "DIVINA  COMMEDIA" 

The  fateful  phrases  are  ringing  about,  while  pervad- 
ing all  is  the  hope-destroying  blast  of  the  brass.  But 
the  storm-centre  is  the  sighing  motive  which  now 
enters  on  a  quicker  spur  of  passionate  stride  (Allegro 
frenetico,  quasi  doppio  movimento).  In  its  winding 

Alia  breve 

Allegro  frenetico  (quasi  doppio  movimento) 
( Theme  in  violins  and  cellos) 


(Woodwind  and  violas) 

sequences  it  sings  a  new  soiig  in  more  regular  pace. 
The  tempest  grows  wilder  and  more  masterful,  still 
following  the  lines  of  the  song,  rising  to  towering 
height.  And  now  in  the  strains,  slow  and  faster, 
sounds  the  sigh  above,  and  below,  all  in  a  madrigal 
of  woe.  The  whole  is  surmounted  by  a  big  descend- 
ing phrase,  articulate  almost  in  its  grim  dogma,  as 
it  runs  into  the  line  of  the  first  legend  in  full  tumult 
of  gloom.  It  is  followed  by  the  doom  slowly  pro- 
claimed in  thundering  tones  of  the  brass,  in  midst 
of  a  tempest  of  surging  harmonies.  Only  it  is  all 
more  fully  and  poignantly  stressed  than  before,  with 
long,  resonant  echoes  of  the  stentorian  tones  of  lowest 
brass. 

Suddenly    we    are    in    the    dulcet    mood    (Quasi 
Andante,  ma  sempre  un  poco  mosso)  'mid  light  wav- 
ing strings  and  rich  swirling  harp,  and  soothing  tones 
31 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


of  flutes  and  muted  horns.  Then,  as  all  other  voices 
are  hushed,  the  clarinet  sings  a  strain  that  ends 
in  lowest  notes  of  expressive  grief  (KeciL.  ?.»•/>/•<•.<- 
sivo  dokntc) — where  we  can  almost  hear  the  words. 
It  is  answered  by  a  sweet  plaint  of  other  wood,  in 


Quasi  Andante,  ma  sempre  tin  pocn  mo**o 


(Clarinets  and  bassoons) 


questioning  accents,  followed  by  the  returning  wave.- 
of  strings  and  harp,  and  another  phrase  of  the 
lament;  and  now  to  the  pulsing  chords  of  the  harp 
the  mellow  English  horn  does'  sing  (at  least  in  the 
score)  the  words,— the  central  text  of  all : 

Poro  agitato  (English  horn,  with  arpeggio  flow  of  harp) 
Esprctft.  motto 


=2T 

Nes-  sun  mag-gior     do  -  lo  -  re 


cho  ri  -  cor  - 


''  There  is  no  greater  sorrow  than  to  be  mindful  of  the 
happy  time  in  misery." — From  Longfellow's  translation. 
32 


DANTE'S  "DIVINA  COMMEDIA" 

Other  voices  join  the  leader.  As  the  lower  reed 
start  the  refrain,  the  higher  enter  in  pursuit,  and  then 
the  two  groups  sing  a  melodic  chase.  But  the  whole 
phrase  is  a  mere  foil  to  the  pure  melody  of  the 
former  plaint  that  now  returns  in  lower  strings. 
And  all  so  far  is  as  a  herald  to  the  passage  of  intimate 
sentiment  (Andante  amoroso)  that  lies  a  lyric  gem 
in  the  heart  of  the  symphony.  The  melting  strain 
is  stressed  in  tenderness  by  the  languor  of  harmonies, 
the  delicate  design  of  elusive  rhythm  and  the  appeal- 
ing whisper  of  harp  and  two  violins, — tipped  by 
the  touch  of  mellow  wood. 

Andante  amoroso.   (Tempo  rubato) 
dolce  con  intimo  sentimento 


(Melody  in  first  violins;  arpeggios  of  harp  and  violas; 
lower  woodwind  and  strings) 

With  the  rising  passion,  as  the  refrain  spreads  in 
wider  sequences,  the  choirs  of  wood  and  strings  are 
drawn  into  the  song,  one  group  answering  the  other 
in  a  true  love  duet. 

The  last  cadence  falls  into  the  old  sigh  as  the  dread 
oracle  sounds  once  more  the  knell  of  hope.  Swirling 
strings  bring  us  to  a  new  scene  of  the  world  of  shades. 
In  the  furious,  frenetic  pace  of  yore  (Tempo  primo, 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Allegro,  alia  br6ve)  there  is  a  new  sullen  note,  a  dull 
martial  trip  of  drums  with  demonic  growls  (in  the 
lowest  wood).  The  sigh  is  there,  but  perverted  in 
humor.  A  chorus  of  blasphemous  mockery  is  stressed 
by  strident  accents  of  lower  wood  and  strings.* 

Gradually  we  fall  into  the  former  frenzied  song, 
amid  the  demon  cacchinations,  until  we  have  plunged 
back  into  the  nightmare  of  groans.  Instead  of  the 
big  descending  phrase  we  sink  into  lower  depths  of 
gloom,  wilder  than  ever,  on  the  first  tripping  motive. 
As  the  sighing  strain  resounds  below  in  the  midst  of 
a  chorus  of  demon  shrieks,  there  enters  the  chant  of 
inexoiable  fate.  Mockery  yields  to  a  tinge  of  pathos, 
a  sense  almost  of  majestic  resignation,  an  apotheosis 
of  grief. 

II.     PURGATORIO 

A  state  of  tranquillity,  almost  of  bliss,  is  in  the 
opening  primal  harmonies  (of  harp  and  strings  and 

Andante  con  moto  quasi  Allegretto.      Tranquillo  cusai 
(Oboe  moltn  enpressirn') 


Sempre  piano  e  legato 
(Full  arpeggio  harp  and  muted  strings) 

*  We  are  again  assisted  by  the  interpreting  words  in  the 
score. 

34 


DANTE'S  "DIVTNA  COMMEDIA" 

soft  horns).  Indeed,  what  else  could  be  the  mood  of 
relief  from  the  horrors  of  hell?  And  lo!  the  reed 
strikes  a  pure  limpid  song  echoed  in  turn  by  other 
voices,  beneath  a  rich  spray  of  heavenly  harmonies. 
This  all  recurs  in  higher  shift  of  tone.  A  wistful 
phrase  (piu  lento,  in  low  strings)  seems  to  breathe 
Un  poco  meno  mosso 


(English  horn,  clarinets, 
bassoons,  French  horn) 

a  spoken  sob.  Then,  as  in  voices  of  a  hymn,  chants 
a  more  formal  liturgy  of  plaint  where  the  phrase  is 
almost  lost  in  the  lowest  voice.  It  is  all  but  articu- 
late, with  a  sense  of  the  old  sigh ;  but  it  is  in  a  calmer 
spirit,  though  anon  bursting  with  passionate  grief 
(lagrimoso}. 

Lamentoso  (In  fugue  of  muted  strings) 


And  now  in  the  same  vein,  of  the  same  fibre,  a 
fugue  begins  of  lament,  first  in  muted  strings. 

It  is  the  line  of  sad  expressive  recitative  that 
heralded  the  plaint  and  the  love-scene.  There  is  heif 
the  full  charm  of  fugue  :  a  rhythmic  quality  of  singli 
35 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

theme,  the  choir  of  concerted  dirge  in  independent 
and  interdependent  paths,  and  with  every  note  of 
integral  melody.  There  is  the  beauty  of  pure  tonal 
architecture  blended  with  the  personal  significance  of 
the  human  (and  divine)  tragedy. 

The  fugue  begins  in  muted  strings,  like  plaintive 
human  voices,  though  wood  and  brass  here  and  there 
light  up  the  phrases.  Xow  the  full  bass  of  horns  and 
Avood  strikes  the  descending  course  of  theme,  while 
higher  strings  and  wood  soar  in  rising  stress  of 
(sighing)  grief. 

(In  double  higher  8ves.) 


(Strings,  with  enforcing  and  answering  wind) 

A  hymnal  verse  of  the  theme  enters  in  the  wood 
answered  by  impetuous  strings  on  a  coursing  phrase. 
The  antiphonal  song  rises  with'  eager  stress  of 
themal  attack.  A  quieter  elegy  leads  to  another  burst, 
the  motive  above,  the  insistent  sigh  below.  The 
climax  of  fugue  returns  to  the  heroic  main  plnint 
l>elow,  with  sighing  answers  above,  all  the  voices  of 
wood  and  brass  enforcing  the  strings. 

Then  the  fugue  turns  to  a  transfigured  phase ;  the 
theme  rings  triumphant  retorts  in  golden  horns  and 
36 


DANTE'S  "DIVINA  COMMEDIA" 

ill  a  masterful  unison  of  the  wood;  the  wild  answer 
runs  joyfully  in  lower  strings,  while  the  higher  are 
strumming  like  celestial  harps.  The  whole  is  trans- 
formed to  a  big  song  of  praise  ever  in  higher  har- 
monics. The  theme  flows  on  in  ever  varying  thread, 
amidst  the  acclaiming  tumult. 

But  the  heavenly  heights  are  not  reached  by  a 
single  leap.  Once  more  we  sink  to  sombre  depths 
not  of  the  old  rejection,  but  of  a  chastened,  wistful 
wonderment.  The  former  plaintive  chant  returns,  in 
slower,  contained  pace,  broken  by  phrases  of  mourn- 
ing recitative,  with  the  old  sigh.  And  a  former  brief 
strain  of  simple  aspiration  is  supported  by  angelic 
harps.  In  gentle  ascent  we  are  wafted  to  the  acclaim 
of  heavenly  (treble)  voices  in  the  Magnificat.  A 
wonderful  utterance,  throughout  the  scene  of  Purga- 
tory, there  is  of  a  chastened,  almost  spiritual  grief 
for  the  sin  that  cannot  be  undone,  though  it  is  not 
past  pardon. 

The  bold  design  of  the  final  Praise  of  the  Almighty 
was  evidently  conceived  in  the  main  as  a  service.  An 
actual  depiction,  or  a  direct  expression  (such  as  is 
attempted  in  the  prologue  of  Boito's  Mefistofele)  was 
thereby  avoided.  The  Holy  of  Holies  is  screened 
from  view  by  a  priestly  ceremony, — by  the  mask  of 
conventional  religion.  Else  we  must  take  the  com- 
poser's personal  conception  of  such  a  climax  as  that 
of  an  orthodox  Churchman.  And  then  the  whole 
work,  with  all  its  pathos  and  humanity,  falls  to  the 
level  of  liturgy. 

37 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  words  of  invisible  angel-chorus  are  those  of 
the  blessed  maid  trusting  in  God  her  savior,  on  a, 
theme  for  which  we  are  prepared  by  preluding  choirs 
of  harps,  wood  and  strings.  It  is  sung  on  an 
ancient  Church  tone  that  in  its  height  approaches  the 
mode  of  secular  song.  With  all  the  power  of  broad 
rhythm,  and  fulness  of  harmony  and  volume,  the 
feeling  is  of  conventional  worship.  With  all  the 
purity  of  shimmering  harmonies  the  form  is  ecclesi- 
astical in  its  main  lines  and  depends  upon  liturgic 
symbols  for  its  effect  and  upon  the  faith  of  the  lis- 
tener for  its  appeal. 

At  the  end  of  the  hymn,  on  the  entering  Hosanna! 
and  Hallelujah!  we  catch  the  sacred  symbol  (of 
seven  tones)  in  the  path  of  the  two  vocal  parts, 
the  lower  descending,  the  higher  ascending  as  on 
heavenly  scale.  In  the  second,  optional  ending  the 
figure  is  completed,  as  the  bass  descends  through  the 
seven  whole  tones  and  the  treble  (of  voices  and  in- 
struments) rises  as  before  to  end  in  overpowering 
Hallelujah!  The  style  is  close  knit  with  the  earlier 
music.  A  pervading  motive  is  the  former  brief  phrase 
of  aspiration ;  upon  it  the  angelic  groups  seem  to 
wing  their  flight  between  verses  of  praise.  By  a 
wonderful  touch  the  sigh,  that  appeared  inverted  in 
the  plaintive  chant  of  the  Purgatorio,  is  finally  glori- 
fied as  the  motive  of  the  bass  to  the  words  of 
exultation, 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  LISZT 

LISZT  was  clearly  a  follower  of  Berlioz  in  the 
abandon  to  a  pictorial  aim,  in  the  revolt  from 
pure  musical  form,  and  in  the  mastery  of  orchestral 
color.  If  we  feel  in  almost  all  his  works  a  charming 
translation  of  story  in  the  tones,  we  also  miss  the 
higher  empyrean  of  pure  fancy,  unlimited  by  halting 
labels.  It  is  a  descent  into  pleasant,  rich  pastures 
from  the  cosmic  view  of  the  lofty  mountain.  Yet  it 
must  be  yielded  that  Liszt's  program-music  was  of 
the  higher  kind  that  dwells  in  symbols  rather  than 
in  concrete  details.  It  was  a  graphic  plan  of  symbol- 
ization  that  led  Liszt  to  choose  the  subjects  of  his 
symphonic  poems  (such  as  the  "  Preludes  "  and  the 
"  Ideals  ")  and  to  prefer  the  poetic  scheme  of  Hugo's 
"  Mazeppa  "  to  the  finer  verse  of  a  Byron.  Though 
not  without  literal  touches,  Liszt  perceived  that  his 
subjects  must  have  a  symbolic  quality. 

Nevertheless  this  pictorial  style  led  to  a  revolution 
in  the  very  nature  of  musical  creation  and  to  a  new 
form  which  was  seemingly  intended  to  usurp  the 
place  of  the  symphony.  It  is  clear  that  the  sym- 
phonic poem  is  in  very  essence  opposed  to  the  sym- 
phony. The  genius  of  the  symphony  lies  in  the  over- 
whelming breadth  and  intensity  of  its  expression 
39 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

without  the  aid  of  words.  Vainly  decried  by  a  later 
age  of  shallower  perception,  it  achieved  th'S  Pro- 
methean stroke  by  the  very  magic  of  the  design.  At 
one  bound  thus  arose  in  the  youngest  art  a  form 
higher  than  any  other. of  human  device, — higher  than 
the  epic,  the  drama,  or  the  cathedral. 

Bowing  to  an  impatient  demand  for  verbal  mean- 
ing, Liszt  invented  the  Symphonic  Poem,  in  which 
the  classic  cogency  yielded  to  the  loose  thread  of  a 
musical  sketch  in  one  movement,  slavishly  following 
the  sequence  of  some  literary  subject.  He  abandoned 
sheer  tonal  fancy,  surrendering  the  magic  potency  of 
pure  music,  fully  expressive  within  its  own  design 
far  beyond  the  literal  scheme.* 

The  symphonic  poems  of  Liszt,  in  so  far  as  his  in- 
tent was  in  destructive  reaction  to  the  classic  process, 
were  precisely  in  line  with  the  drama  of  Wagner.  The 
common  revolt  completely  failed.  The  higher,  the 
real  music  is  ever  of  that,  pure  tonal  design  wlu-iv 
the  fancy  is  not  leashed  to  some  external  schcnit . 
Liszt  himself  grew  to  perceive  the  inadequacy  of  the 
new  device  when  he  returned  to  the  symphony  for  hi< 
greatest  orchestral  expression,  though  even  hen  In- 
never  escaped  from  the  thrall  of  a  literal  subject. 

And  strangely,  in  point  of  actual  music,  we  cannot 
fail  to  find  an  emptier,  a  more  grandiose  manner  in 
all  these  symphonic  poems  than  in  the  two  sym- 

*  Mendelssohn  with  perfect  insight  once  declared. — 
"  Note*  have  as  definite  a  meaning  as  words,  perhaps  even  a 
mere  definite  one." 

40 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  LISZT 

phonies.  It  seems  as  if  an  unconscious  sense  of  -the 
greater  nobility  of  the  classic  medium  drove  Liszt 
to  a  far  higher  inspiration  in  his  melodic  themes. 

Yet  we  cannot  deny  the  brilliant,  dazzling  strokes, 
and  the  luscious  harmonies.  It  was  all  a  new  man- 
ner, and  alone  the  novelty  is  welcome,  not  to  speak  of 
the  broad  sweep  of  facile  melody,  and  the  sparkling 
thrills. 

LKX    I'KKLUDES 

This  work  has  a  preface  by  the  composer,  who  re- 
fers in  a  footnote  to  the  ''Meditations  poetique*''  of 
Lamartine. 

"  What  else  is  our  life  than  a  series  of  preludes  to 
that  unknown  song  of  which  the  first  solemn  note  is 
struck  by  death  ?  Love  is  the  morning  glow  of  every 
heart;  but  in  what  human  career  have  not  the  first 
ecstasies  of  bliss  been  broken  by  the  storm,  whose 
cruel  breath  destroys  fond  illusions,  and  blasts  the 
sacred  shrine  with  the  bolt  of  lightning.  And  what 
soul,  sorely  wounded,  does  not,  emerging  from  the 
tempest,  seek  to  indulge  its  memories  in  the  calm  of 
country  life  ?  Nevertheless,  man  will  not  resign  him- 
self for  long  to  the  soothing  charm  of  quiet  nature, 
and  when  the  trumpet  sounds  the  signal  of  alarm,  he 
runs  to  the  perilous  post,  whatever  be  the  cause  that 
calls  him  to  the  ranks  of  war, — that  he  may  find  in 
combat  the  full  consciousness  of  himself  and  the  com- 
mand of  all  his  powers." 

How  far  is  the  music  literally  graphic  ?  We  can- 
41 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

not/  look  for  the  "  unknown  song  v  in  definite  sounds. 
That  would  defeat,  not  describe,  its  character.  But 
the  first  solemn  notes,  are  not  these  the  solemn  rising 
phrase  that  reappears  in  van-ing  rhythm  and  pace 
all  about  the  beginning  and,  indeed,  the  whole  course 


Andante 


m 


(Strings,  doubled  in 
two  lower  8ves.) 

of  the  music.  Just  these  three  notes  abound  in  the 
mystic  first  "prelude,"  and  they  are  the  core  of  the 
great  swinging  tune  of  the  Andante  maestoso,  the 
beginning  and  main  pulse  of  the  unknown  song. 

Andante  maestoso 


(Basses  of  strings,  wood  and  braes,  doubled  below;  arpeggio 
harmonica  in  upper  strings;  sustained  higher  wood) 

Xow    (dolce  cantando)    is  a  softer  guise  of  the 
phrase.    For  death  and  birth,  the  two  portals,  are  like 
(Strings,  with  arpeggio  violins) 


(Pizz.  basses) 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  LISZT 

elements.  Even  here  the  former  separate  motive 
sounds,  and  so  in  the  further  turn  of  the  song  (ex* 
pressivo  dolente)  on  new  thread. 

The  melody  that  sings  (expressivo  ma  tranquillo) 
may  well  stand  for  "love,  the  glow  of  dawn  in  every 
heart/'  Before  the  storm,  both  great  motives  (of  love 
and  death)  sound  together  very  beautifully,  as  in 

egress,  ma  tranquillo 

3 


( Horns  and  lower  strings,  with 
arpeggio  harp  and  violins) 


Tennyson's  poem.  The  storm  that  blasts  the  ro- 
mance begins  with  the  same  fateful  phrase.  It  is 
all  about,  even  inverted,  and  at  the  crisis  it  sings 
with  the  fervor  of  full-blown,  song.  At  the  lull  the 
soft  guise  reappears,  faintly,  like  a  sweet  memory. 

The  Allegretto  pastorale  is  clear  from  the  preface. 
After  we  are  lulled.,  soothed,  caressed  and  all  but 
entranced  by  these  new  impersonal  sounds,  then,  as 
if  the  sovereign  for  whom  all  else  were  preparing, 
the  song  of  love  seeks  its  recapitulated  verse.  Indeed 
here  is  the  real  full  song.  Is  it  that  in  the  memory 
lies  the  reality,  or  at  least  the  realization  ? 
43 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Out  of  the  dream  of  love  rouses  the  sudden  alarm 
of  brass  (Allegro  marziale  animate),  with  a  new  war- 
tune  fashioned  of  the  former  soft  disguised  motive. 
The  air  of  fate  still  hangs  heavy  over  all.  In  spirited 
retorts  the  martial  madrigal  proceeds,  but  it  is  not 
all  mere  war  and  courage.  Through  the  clash  of 
strife  break  in  the  former  songs,  the  love-theme  in 
triumph  and  the  first  expressive  strain  in  tempestuous 
joy.  Last  of  all  the  fateful  original  motto  rings  once 
more  in  serene,  contained  majesty. 

On  the  whole,  even  with  so  well-defined  a  program, 
and  with  a  full  play  of  memory,  we  cannot  be  quite 
sure  of  a  fixed  association  of  the  motive.  It  is 
better  to  view  the  melodic  episodes  as  subjective 
phases,  arising  from  the  tenor  of  the  poem. 

TA88O 

Liszt's  "  Tasso  "  is  probably  the  earliest  celebration, 
in  pure  tonal  form,  of  the  plot  of  man's  suffering  and 
redemption,  that  has  been  so  much  followed  that  it 
may  be  called  the  type  of  the  modern  symphony.* 
In  this  direct  influence  the  "Tasso"  poem  has 
been  the  most  striking  of  all  of  Liszt's  creations. 

*  We  may  mention  such  other  works  of  Liszt  as  "  Ma- 
zeppa  "  and  the  "  Faust "  Symphony ;  the  third  symphony 
of  Saint-Saisns ;  Strauss'  tone  poem  "  Death  and  Trans- 
figuration"; Volbach's  symphony,  besides  other  symphonies 
such  as  a  work  by  Carl  Pohlig.  We  may  count  here,  too, 
the  Heldenlied  by  DvOrfik,  and  Strauss'  Heldenleben  (see 
Vol.  II). 

44 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  LISZT 

The  following  preface  of  the  composer  accompanies 
the  score: 

"  In  the  year  1849  the  one  hundredth  anniversary  of 
Goethe's  birth  was  celebrated  throughout  Germany;  the 
theatre  in  Weimar,  where  we  were  at  the  time,  marked  the 
28th  of  August  by  a  performance  of  '  Tasao.' 

"  The  tragic  fate  of  the  unfortunate  bard  served  as  a 
text  for  the  two  greatest  poets  produced  by  Germany  and 
England  in  the  last  century:  Goethe  and  Byron.  Upon 
Goethe  was  bestowed  the  most  brilliant  of  mortal  careers; 
while  Byron's  advantages  of  birth  and  of  fortune  were 
balanced  by  keenest  suffering.  We  must  confess  that  when 
bidden,  in  1849,  to  write  an  overture  for  Goethe's  drama, 
we  were  more  immediately  inspired  by  Byron's  reverential 
pity  for  the  shades  of  the  great  man,  which  he  invoked, 
than  by  the  work  of  the  German  poet.  Nevertheless  Byron, 
in  his  picture  of  Tasso  in  prison,  was  unable  to  add  to  the 
remembrance  of  his  poignant  grief,  so  nobly  and  eloquently 
uttered  in  his  '  Lament,'  the  thought  of  the  '  Triumph ' 
that  a  tardy  justice  gave  to  the  chivalrous  author  of  '  Jeru- 
salem Delivered.'  We  have  sought  to  mark  this  dual  idea 
in  the  very  title  of  our  work,  and  we  should  be  glad  to 
have  succeeded  in  pointing  this  great  contrast, — the  genius 
who  was  misjudged  during  his  life,  surrounded,  after  death, 
with  a  halo  that  destroyed  his  enemies.  Tasso  loved  and 
suffered  at  Ferrara;  he  was  avenged  at  Rome;  his  glory 
still  lives  in  the  folk-songs  of  Venice.  These  three  elements 
are  inseparable  from  his  immortal  memory.  To  represent 
them  in  music,  we  first  called  up  his  august  spirit  as  he 
still  haunts  the  waters  of  Venice.  Then  we  beheld  his  proud 
and  melancholy  figure  as  he  passed  through  the  festivals 
of  Ferrara  where  he  had  produced  his  master- works. 
Finally  we  followed  him  to  Rome,  the  eternal  city,  that 
offered  him  the  crown  and  glorified  in  him  the  martyr  and 
the  poet. 

45 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

"  Lamento  e  Trionfo:  Such  are  the  opposite  poles  of  the 
destiny  of  poets,  of  whom  it  has  been  justly  said  that  if 
their  lives  are  sometimes  burdened  with  a  curse,  a  blessing 
ia  never  wanting  over  their  grave.  For  the  sake  not  merely 
of  authority,  but  the  distinction  of  historical  truth,  we 
put  our  idea  into  realistic  form  in  taking  for  the  theme  of 
our  musical  poem  the  motive  with  which  we  have  heard 
the  gondoliers  of  Venice  sing  over  the  waters  the  lines 
of  Tasso,  and  utter  them  three  centuries  after  the  poet: 

"  '  Canto  1'armi  pietose  e'l  Capitano 

Che'l   gran   Sepolcro   libero   di   Christo!  ' 

"The  motive  is  in  itself  plaintive;  it  has  a  sustained 
sigh,  a  monotone  of  grief.  But  the  gondoliers  give  it  a 
special  quality  by  prolonging  certain  tones — as  when  dis- 
tant rays  of  brilliant  light  are  reflected  on  the  waves. 
This  song  had  deeply  impressed  us  long  ago.  It  was  im- 
possible to  treat  of  Tasso  without  taking,  as  it  were,  as 
text  for  our  thoughts,  this  homage  rendered  by  the  nation 
to  the  genius  whose  love  and  loyalty  were  ill  merited  by  the 
court  of  Ferrara.  The  Venetian  melody  breathes  so  sharp 
a  melancholy,  such  hopeless  sadness,  that  it  suffices  in  itself 
to  reveal  the  secret  of  Tasso's  grief.  It  lent  itself,  like  the 
poet's  imagination,  to  the  world's  brilliant  illusions,  to  the 
smooth  and  false  coquetry  of  those  smiles  that  brought  the 
dreadful  catastrophe  in  their  train,  for  which  there  seemed 
to  be  no  compensation  in  this  world.  And  yet  upon  the 
Capitol  the  poet  was  clothed  with  a  mantle  of  purer  and 
more  brilliant  purple  than  that  of  Alphonse." 

With  the  help  of  the  composer's  plot,  the  intent 
of  the  music  becomes  clear,  to  the  dot  almost  of  the 
note.  The  whole  poem  is  an  exposition  of  the  one 
sovereign  melody,  where  we  may  feel  a  kindred  trait 
of  Hungarian  song,  above  all  in  the  cadences,  that 
46 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  LISZT 

must  have  stirred  Liszt's  patriot  heart.  Xay, — 
beginning  as  it  does  with  melancholy  stress  of  the 
phrase  of  cadence  and  the  straying  into  full  rhyth- 
mitic  exultation,  it  seems  (in  strange  guise)  another 


Adagio  mesto 

J^-XI 

r^I:  b  ti    ^  -8—  ^-g— 

^  —  g,  AH 

y     S      —   1  !  1—  ^ 

|_L^V^  *  f  *-E 

i       * 

_/  espress. 

i  (With  rhythmic 
1     harp  and  horns) 

( Harp  and 
-  horns) 

S 


P^M,  aJ.u,  -.^PU  j  i  ,)z^^rrT*f^= 

of  Liszt's  Hungarian  rhapsodies, — that  were,  perhaps, 
the  greatest  of  all  he  achieved,  where  his  unpremedi- 
tated frenzy  revelled  in  purest  folk-rhythm  and 
tune.  The  natural  division  of  the  Hungarian  dance, 
with  the  sad  Lassu  and  the  glad  Friss,  is  here  clear  in 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

order  and  recurrence.  The  Magyar  seems  to  the 
manner  born  in  both  parts  of  the  melody.* 

In  the  accents  of  the  motive  of  cadence  (Lento)  we 
feel  the  secret  grief  of  the  hero,  that  turns  Allegro 
strepitoso,  in  quicker  pace  to  fierce  revolt. 

In  full  tragic  majesty  the  noble  theme  enters,  in 
panoply  of  woe.  In  the  further  flow,  as  in  the  be- 
ginning, is  a  brief  chromatic  strain  and  a  sigh  of 
descending  tone  that  do  not  lie  in  the  obvious  song, 
that  are  drawn  by  the  subjective  poet  from  the  later.t 
fibre.  Here  is  the  modern  Liszt,  of  rapture  and  an- 
guish, in  manner  and  in  mood  that  proved  so  potent 
a  model  with  a  later  generation.! 

The  verse  ends  in  a  prolonged  threnody,  then  turns 
to  a  firm,  serenely  grave  burst  of  the  song  in  major, 
Meno  Adagio,  with  just  a  hint  of  martial  grandeur. 
For  once,  or  the  nonce,  we  seem  to  see  the  hero-poet 
acclaimed.  In  a  middle  episode  the  motive  of  the 
cadence  sings  expressively  with  delicate  harmonies, 
rising  to  full-blown  exaltation.  We  may  see  here  an 
actual  brief  celebration,  such  as  Tasso  did  receive 
on  entering  Ferrara. 

And  here  is  a  sudden  fanciful  turn.  A  festive 
dance  strikes  a  tuneful  trip, — a  menuet  it  surely  is, 
with  all  the  ancient  festal  charm,  vibrant  with  tune 
and  spring,  though  still  we  do  not  escape  -the  source 

*  V  common  Oriental  element  in  Hungarian  and  Venetian 
music  has  been  observed.  See  Kretschmar's  note  to  Liszt's 
"lasso"  (Breitkopf  &  Haertel). 

•j-  See  note  in  the  final  chapter  of  Volume  II. 
48 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  LISZT 

of  the  first  pervading  theme.  Out  of  the  midst  of 
the  dance  sings  slyly  an  enchanting  phrase,  much 
like  a  secret  love-romance.  Now  to  the  light  con- 
tinuing dance  is  joined  a  strange  companion, — the 
heroic  melody  in  its  earlier  majestic  pace.  Is  it  the 
poet  in  serious  meditation  at  the  feast  apart  from 
the  joyous  abandon,  or  do  we  see  him  laurel-crowned, 
a  centre  of  the  festival,  while  the  gay  dancers  flit 
about  him  in  homage? 

More  and  more  brilliant  grows  the  scene,  though 
ever  with  the  dominant  grave  figure.  With  sudden 
stroke  as  of  fatal  blast  returns  the  earlier  fierce  burst 
of  revolt,  rising  to  agitation  of  the  former  lament, 
blending  both  moods  and  motives,  and  ending  with 
a  broader  stress  of  the  first  tragic  motto. 

Now,  Allegro  con  'brio,  with  herald  calls  of  the 
brass  and  fanfare  of  running  strings  (drawn  from 
the  personal  theme),  in  bright  major  the  whole  song 
bursts  forth  in  brilliant  gladness.  At  the  height  the 
exaltation  finds  vent  in  a  peal  of  simple  melody. 
The  "triumph"  follows  in  broadest,  royal  pace  of 
the  main  song  in  the  wind,  while  the  strings  are 
madly  coursing  and  the  basses  reiterate  the  trans- 
formed motive  of  the  cadence.  The  end  is  a  revel  of 
jubilation. 

MAZEPPA 

The  Mazeppa  music  is  based  upon  Victor  Hugo's 
poem,  in  turn  founded  upon  Byron's  verse,  with  an 
added  stirring  touch  of  allegory. 
4  49 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  verses  of  Hugo  first  tell  how  the  victim  ig 
tied  to  the  fiery  steed,  how — 

•'  He  turns  in  the  toils  like  a  serpent  in  madness, 
And     .     .     .     his  tormentors  have  feasted  in  gladness 
Upon    his    despair. 

They  fly. — Empty  space  is  behind  and  before  them 

The  horse,  neither  bridle  nor  bit  on  him  feeling, 
Flies  ever;  red  drops  o'er  the  victim  are  stealing: 

His  whole  body  bleeds. 

Alas!  to  the  wild  horses  foaming  and  champing 
That  followed  with  mane  erect,  neighing  and  stamping, 

A  crow-flight  succeeds. 

The  raven,  the  horn'd  owl  with  eyes  round  and  hollow, 
The  osprey  and  eagle  from  battle-field  follow, 

Though  daylight  alarm. 

Then  after  three  days  of  this  course  wild  and  frantie, 
Through  rivers  of  ice,  plains  and  forests  gigantic. 
The  horse  sinks  and  dies; 

Yet  mark!    That  poor  sufferer,  gasping  and  moaninp, 
To-morrow  the  Cossacks  of  Ukraine  atoning, 
Will  hail  as  their  King; 

To  royal  Mazeppa  the  hordes  Asiatic 
Will  show  the:r  devotion  in  fervor  ecstatic, 
And  low  to  earth  bow." 

In  his  splendid  epilogue  the  poet  likens  the  hero 
to  the  mortal  011  whom  the  god  has  set  his  mark. 
He  sees  himself  bound  living  to  the  fatal  course  of 
genius,  the  fiery  steed. 

50 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  LISZT 

"  Away  from  the  world — from  all  real  existence 
He  is  borne  upwards,  despite  his  resistance 

On  feet  of  steel. 

He  is  taken  o'er  deserts,  o'er  mountains  in  legions, 
Grey-hoary,  thro"  oceans,  and  into  the  regions 

Far  over  the  clouds; 

A  thousand  base  spirits  his  progress  unshaken 
Arouses,  press  round  him  and  stare  as  they  waken, 

In  insolent  crowds 

He  cries  out  with  terror,  in  agony  grasping, 
Yet  ever  the  name  of  his  Pegasus  clasping, 

They  heavenward  spring; 

Each  leap  that  he  takes  with  fresh  woe  is  attended; 
He  totters — falls  lifeless — the  struggle  is  ended — 

And  rises  as  King!  * 

The  original  Allegro  agitato  in  broad  6/4    time 
(aptly  suggestive  of  the  unbridled  motion)    grows 

(In  brass  and  strings  with  lower  8ve.) 

'      NT 


ff  sempre 

(With  constant  clattering  higher  strings  and 
chord  of  low  wind  on  the  middle  beat) 

more  rapid  into  an  alia  breve  pace  (in  two  beats), 
with  dazzling  maze  of  lesser  rhythms.  Throughout 
the  work  a  song  of  primeval  strain  prevails.  Here 
and  there  a  tinge  of  foreshadowing  pain  appears,  as 
the  song  sounds  on  high,  espressivo  dolente.  But  the 

*  The  English  verses  are  taken  for  the  most  part  from 
the  translation  of  F.  Corder. 
51 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

fervor  and  fury  of  movement  is  undiminished.  The 
brief  touch  of  pathos  soon  merges  in  the  general 
heroic  mood.  Later,  the  whole  motion  ceases,  "  the 
horse  sinks  and  dies/'  and  now  an  interlude  sings  a 
pure  plaint  (in  the  strain  of  the  main  motive).  Then, 
Allegro,  the  martial  note  clangs  in  stirring  trumpet 
and  breaks  into  formal  song  of  war,  Allegro  marziale. 

(Brass  and  strings) 
Allegro  marziale 


(With  lower  8ve.) 


In  the  wake  of  this  song,  with  a  relentless  trip 
and  tramp  of  warrior  hordes,  is  the  real  clash  and 
jingle  of  the  battle,  where  the  sparkling  thrill  of 
strings  and  the  saucy  counter  theme  are  strong  ele- 
ments in  the  stirring  beauty. 

There  is  a  touch  here  of  the  old  Goth,  or  rather 
the  Hun,  nearer  akin  to  the  composer's  race. 

At  the  height  rings  out  the  main  tune  of  yore, 
transformed  in  triumphant  majesty. 

The  musical  design  embraces  various  phases.  First 
is  the  clear  rhythmic  sense  of  the  ride.  We  think 
of  other  instances  like  Schubert's  "  Erl-King "  or 
the  ghostly  ride  in  Raff's  "  Lenore  "  Symphony. 

The  degree  of  vivid  description  must  vary,  not 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  LISZT 

only  with  the  composer,  but  with  the  hearer.  The 
greatest  masters  have  yielded  to  the  variety  of  the 
actual  graphic  touch.  And,  too,  there  are  always 
interpreters  who  find  it,  even  if  it  was  never  in- 
tended. Thus  it  is  common  to  hear  at  the  very 
beginning  of  the  "  Mazeppa '"  music  the  cry  that 
goes  up  as  starts  the  flight. 

We  are  of  course  entitled,  if  we  prefer,  to  feel  the 
poetry  rather  than  the  picture.  Finally  it  is  probably 
true  that  such  a  poetic  design  is  not  marred  merely 
because  there  is  here  or  there  a  trick  of  onomato- 
poeia ;  if  it  is  permitted  in  poetry,  why  not  in  music  ? 
It  may  be  no  more  than  a  spur  to  the  fancy,  a  quick 
conjuring  of  the  association. 


HUNNENSCHLACHT-"  THE   BATTLE   OF   THE 
HUNS  " 

Liszt's  symphonic  poem,  "  Hunnenschlacht,"  one 
of  the  last  of  his  works  in  this  form,  completed  in 
1857,  was  directly  inspired  by  the  picture  of  the 
German  painter,  Wilhelm  Kaulbach,  which  repre- 
sents the  legend  of  the  aerial  battle  between  the 
spirits  of  the  Eomans  and  Huns  who  had  fallen  out- 
side of  the  walls  of  Rome.* 

*  A  description  of  the  picture  is  cited  by  Lawrence  Gil- 
man  in  his  book,  "  Stories  of  Symphonic  Music,"  as  follows : 

"  According  to  a  legend,  the  combatants  were  BO  exasper- 
ated that  the  slain  rose  during  the  night  and  fought  in  the 
air.  Rome,  which  is  seen  in  the  background,  is  said  to  have 
been  the  scene  of  this  event.  Above,  borne  on  a  shield, 
53 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  evidence  of  the  composer's  intent  is  embodied 
in  a  letter  written  in  1857  to  the  wife  of  the  painter. 
which  accompanied  the  manuscript  of  an  arrange- 
ment of  the  music  for  two  pianos.  In  the  letter  Lis/.t 
speaks  of  "  the  meteoric  and  solar  light  which  I  have 
borrowed  from  the  painting,  and  which  at  the  Finale 
I  have  formed  into  one  whole  by  the  gradual  working 
up  of  the  Catholic  choral  e  Crux  fidelis/  and  the 
meteoric  sparks  blended  therewith/'  He  continues  : 
"As  I  have  already  intimated  to  Ivaiilbach,  in 
Munich,  I  was  led  by  the  musical  demands  of  the 
material  to  give  proportionately  more  place  to  the 
solar  light  of  Christianity,  personified  in  the  Catholic 
choral  .  .  .  than  appears  to  be  the  case  in  the 
glorious  painting,  iu  order  to  win  and  pregnantly 
represent  the  conclusion  of  the  Victory  of  the  Cross, 
with  which  I  both  as  a  Catholic  and  as  a  man  could 
jiot  dispense." 

The  work  begins  iempestuoxo  (allegro  non  troppo), 
\\itli  a  nervous  theme  over  soft  rolling  drums-  and 


Tempeituoso.  Allegro  non  troppo 


(Bassoons  with  tremolo  cellos 
and  roll  of  kettle-drams) 


is  Attila,  with  a  scourge  in  hi~  hand;  opposite  him  Theo- 
doric,  King  of  the  Visigoths.  The  foreground  is  a  battle- 
field, strewn  with  corpses,  which  are  seen  to  be  gradually 
reviving,  rising  up  and  rallying,  while  among  them  wander 
wailing  and  lamenting  women." 
54 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  LISZT 

trembling  low  strings,  that  is  taken  up  as  in  fugue 
by  successive  groups  and  carried  to  a  height  where 
enters  a  fierce  call  of  the  horns.  The  cries  of  battle 
spread  with  increasing  din  and  gathering  speed.  At 
the  first  climax  the  whole  motion  has  a  new  energy, 
AS  the  strings  in  feverish  chase  attack  the  quickened 
motive  with  violent  stress.  Later,  though  the  motion 
has  not  lessened,  the  theme  has  returned  to  a  sem- 
blance of  its  former  pace,  and  again  the  cries  of  battle 
.(in  brass  and  wood)  sound  across  its  path. 

(Strings,  tremolo,  doubled  above) 

q 


/  feroce 

In  the  hush  of  the  storm  the  full-blown  call  to 
arms  is  heard  in  lowest,  funereal  tones.  Of  a  sud- 
den, though  the  speed  is  the  same,  the  pace  changes 
with  a  certain  terror  as  of  a  cavalry  attack.  Presently 
amid  the.  clattering  tramp  sounds  the  big  hymn, — in 
the  ancient  rhythm  that  moves  strangely  out  of  the 
rut  of  even  time.* 

A  single  line  of  the  hymn  is  followed  by  a  refrain 
of  the  battle-call,  and  by  the  charge  of  horse  that 

*  Quoted    on   the   following   page. 
55 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

brings  back  the  hymn,  in  high  pitch  of  trumpets. 
And  so  recur  the  former  phases  of  battle,— really 
of  threat  and  preparation.  For  now  begins  the 
serious  fray  in  one  long  gathering  of  speed  and  power. 
The  first  theme  here  grows  to  full  melodic  song,  with 
extended  answer,  led  by  strepitous  band  of  lower 
reed  over  a  heavy  clatter  of  strings.  We  are  in  a 


(Trombones  with  lower  8ve) 


maze  of  furious  charges  and  cries,  till  the  shrill 
trumpet  and  the  stentorian  trombone  strike  the  full 
call  in  antiphonal  song.  The  tempest  increases  with 
a  renewed  charge  of  the  strings,  and  now  the  more 
distant  calls  have  a  slower  sweep.  Later  the  battle 
song  is  in  the  basses, — again  in  clashing  basses  and 
trebles ;  nearer  strike  the  broad  sweeping  calls. 

Suddenly  over  the  hushed  motion  in  soothing  har- 
monies sings  the  hymn  in  pious  choir  of  all  the  brass. 
Then  the  gathering  speed  and  volume  is  merged  in  a 
majestic  tread  as  of  ordered  array  (Maestoso  assai; 
Andante)  ;  a  brief  spirited  prelude  of  martial  motives 
is  answered  by  the  soft  religious  strains  of  the  organ 
on  the  line  of  the  hymn : 

56 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  LISZT 

"  Crux  fidelis,  inter  omnes 
Arbor  una  nobilis, 
Nulla  silva  talem  profert 
Fronde,  flore,  germine. 
Dulee    lignum,    dulces    clavos, 
Dulc*  pondus  sustinet."  * 


As  in  solemn  liturgy  come  the  answering  phrases 
of  the  organ  and  the  big  chorus  in  martial  tread. 
As  the  hymn  winds  its  further  course,  violins  entwine 
about  the  harmonies.  The  last  line  ends  in  expressive 
strain  and  warm  line  of  new  major  tone, — echoed  in 
interluding  organ  and  violins. 

Suddenly  a  strict,  solemn  tread,  with  sharp  stress 
of  violins,  brings  a  new  song  of  the  choral.  Strings 
alone  play  here  "  with  pious  expression  " ;  gradually 
reeds  add  support  and  ornament.  A  lingering  phrase 
ascends  on  celestial  harmonies.  TVith  a  stern  shock 
the  plain  hymn  strikes  in  the  reed,  against  a  rapid 
course  of  strings,  with  fateful  tread.  In  interlude 
sound  the  battle-cries  of  yore.  Again  the  hymn  ends 
in  the  expressive  cadence,  though  now  it  grows  to  a 
height  of  power. 

Here  a  former  figure  (the  first  motive  of  the  battle) 

*  Faithful  cross,  among  the  trees 
Thou  the  noblest  of  them  all! 
Forest  ne'er  doth  grow  a  like 
In  leaf,  in  flower  or  in  seed. 
Blessed  wood  and  blessed  nails, 
Blessed  burden  that  it  bears! 
57 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

reappears  iu  a  new  guise  of  bright  major,*  in  full, 
spirited  stride,  and  leads  once  more  to  a  blast  of  the 
hymn,  with  organ  and  all,  the  air  in  unison  of  trum- 
pets and  all  the  wood.  The  expressive  cadence  nuMy- 
into  a  last  fanfare  of  battle,  followed  by  a  strain 
of  hymns  and  with  reverberating  Amens,  where  the 
organ  predominates  and  holds  long  after  all  other 
sounds  have  ceased. 

*  In  the  whole  tonality  we  may  see  the  "  meteoric  ami 
solar  light"  of  which  the  composer  speaka  in  the  letter 
quoted  above. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  SAINT-SAENS 


HERE  is  something  charming  and  even  ideal  in 
JL  a  complete  versatility,  quite  apart  from  the 
depth  of  the  separate  poems,  where  there  is  a  never- 
failing  touch  of  grace  and  of  distinction.  The  Philip 
Sydneys  are  quite  as  important  as  the  Miltons,  per- 
haps they  are  as  great.  Some  poets  seem  to  achieve 
an  expression  in  a  certain  cyclic  or  sporadic  career 
of  their  fancy,  touching  on  this  or  that  form, 
illuminating  with  an  elusive  light  the  various  corners 
of  the  garden.  Their  individual  expression  lies  in 
the  ensemble  of  these  touches,  rather  than  in  a  single 
profound  revelation. 

A  symptom  of  the  eminence  of  Saint-Saens  in  the 
history  of  French  music  lies  in  his  attitude  towards 
the  art  as  a  whole,  especially  of  the  German  masters, 
—  the  absence  of  national  bias  in  his  perceptions.  He 
was  foremost  in  revealing  to  his  countrymen  the 
greatness  of  Bach,  Beethoven  and  Schumann.  With- 
out their  influence  the  present  high  state  of  French 
music  can  hardly  be  conceived. 

It  is  part  of  a  broad  and  versatile  mastery  that  it 

is  difficult  to  analyze.     Thus  it  is  not  easy  to  find 

salient  traits  in  the  art  of  M.  Saint-Saens.    We  are 

apt  to  think  mainly  of  the  distinguished  beauty  of 

59 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

his  harmonies,  until  we  remember  his  subtle  counter- 
point, or  in  turn  the  brilliancy  of  his  orchestration. 
The  one  trait  that  he  has  above  his  contemporaries  is 
an  inbred  refinement  and  restraint, — a  thorough- 
going workmanship.  If  he  does  not  share  a  certain 
overwrought  emotionalism  that  is  much  affected 
nowadays,  there  is  here  no  limitation — rather  a  dis- 
tinction. Aside  from  the  general  charm  of  his  art, 
Saint-Saens  found  in  the  symphonic  poem  his  one 
special  form,  so  that  it  seemed  Liszt  had  created  it 
less  for  himself  than  for  his  French  successor.  A  fine 
reserve  of  poetic  temper  saved  him  from  hysterical 
excess.  He  never  lost  the  music  in  the  story,  disdain- 
ing the  mere  rude  graphic  stroke;  in  his  dramatic 
symbols  a  musical  charm  is  ever  commingled.  And  a 
like  poise  helped  him  to  a  right  plot  and  point  in  his 
descriptions.  So  his  symphonic  poems  must  ever 
be  enjoyed  mainly  for  the  music,  with  perhaps  a 
revery  upon  the  poetic  story.  With  a  less  brilliant 
vein  of  melody,  though  they  are  not  so  Promethean 
in  reach  as  those  of  Liszt,  they  are  more  complete 
in  the  musical  and  in  the  narrative  effect. 

DAN8E  MACABRE 

Challenged  for  a  choice  among  the  works  of  the 
versatile  composer,  we  should  hit  upon  the  Danse 
Macabre  as  the  most  original,  profound  and 
essentially  beautiful  of  all.  It  is  free  from  certain 
lacks  that  one  feels  in  other  works,  with  all  their 
€0 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  SAINT-SAENS 

charm, — a  shallowness  and  almost  frivolity;  a  facility 
of  theme  approaching  the  commonplace. 

There  is  here  an  eccentric  quality  of  humor,  a 
daemonic  conceit  that  reach  the  height  of  otaer  classic 
expression  of  the  supernatural. 

The  music  is  founded  upon  certain  lines  of  a  poem 
of  Henri  Calais  (under  a  like  title),  that  may  be 
given  as  follows : 

Zig-a-zig,  zig-a-zig-a-zig, 
Death  knocks  on  the  tomb  with  rhythmic  heel. 

Zig-a-zig,  zig-a-zig-zig, 
Death  fiddles  at  midnight  a  ghostly  reel. 

The  winter  wind  whistles,  dark  is  the  night; 

Dull  groans  behind  the  lindens  grow  loud; 
Back  and  forth  fly  the  skeletons  white, 

Running  and  leaping  each  under  his  shroud. 
Zig-a-zig-a-zig,  how  it  makes  you  quake, 
As  you  hear  the  bones  of  the  dancers  shake. 

But  hist!  all  at  once  they  vanish  away, 
The  cock  has  hailed  the  dawn  of  day. 

The  magic  midnight  strokes  sound  clear  and  sharp. 
In  eager  chords  of  tuned  pitch  the  fiddling  ghost  sum- 
mons the  dancing  groups,  where  the  single  fife  is 
soon  followed  by  demon  violins. 

Broadly  sings  now  the  descending  tune  half-way 
between  a  wail  and  a  laugh.  And  ever  in  interlude 
is  the  skipping,  mincing  step, — here  of  reeds  answered 
by  solo  violin  with  a  light  clank  of  cymbals.  Answer- 
ing the  summoning  fifes,  the  unison  troop  of  fiddlers 
61 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

dance  the  main  step  to  bright  strokes  of  triangle,  then 
rhe  main  ghostly  violin  trips  in  with  choir  of  wind. 
And  broadly  again  sweeps  the  song  between  tears  and 


In  waltz  rhythm 
(Flute)    ten. 


ten. 


con  #txz.  (Harp,  with  sustained  bass  note  of  strings) 

smiles.     Or  Death  fiddles  the  first  strain  of  reel  for 
the  tumultuous  answer  of  chorus. 

Now  they  build  «  busy,  bustling  fugue   (of  the 
descending  song)   and  at  the  serious  moment  sud- 

(Solo  violin)  arco 
f  Largamente 


denly  they  skip  away  in  new  frolicsome,  all  but  joyous, 
tune:  a  shadowy  counterfeit  of  gladness,  where  the 
sob  hangs  on  the  edge  of  the  smile.  As  if  it  could  no 
longer  be  contained,  now  pours  the  full  passionate 
grief  of  the  broad  descending  strain.  Death  fiddles 
62 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  SAINT-SAENS 

his  mournful  chant  to  echoing,  expressive  wind.  On 
the  abandon  of  grief  follows  the  revel  of  grim  humor 
in  pranks  of  mocking  demons.  All  the  strains  are 
mingled  in  the  ghostly  bacchanale.  The  descend- 
ing song  is  answered  in  opposite  melody.  A 
chorus  of  laughter  follows  the  tripping  dance.  The 
summoning  chords,  acclaimed  by  chorus,  grow  to 
appealing  song  in  a  brief  lull.  At  the  height,  to  the 
united  skipping  dance  of  overpowering  chorus  the 
brass  blows  the  full  verse  of  descending  song.  The 
rest  is  a  mad  storm  of  carousing  till  .  .  .  out  of 
the  whirling  darkness  sudden  starts  the  sharp,  sheer 
call  of  prosaic  day,  in  high,  shrill  reed.  On  a  minish- 
ing  sound  of  rolling  drum  and  trembling  strings, 
sings  a  brief  line  of  wistful  rhapsody  of  the  departing 
spirit  before  the  last  whisking  steps. 

PHAETON 

On  a  separate  page  between  title  and  score  is  a 
"Notice" — an  epitome  of  the  story  of  Pha?ton, 
as  follows: 

u  Phseton  has  been  permitted  to  drive  the  chariot 
of  the  Sun,  his  father,  through  the  heavens.  But  his 
unskilful  hands  frighten  the  steeds.  The  flaming 
chariot,  thrown  out  of  its  course,  approaches  the  ter- 
restrial regions.  The  whole  universe  is  on  the  verge 
of  ruin  when  Jupiter  strikes  the  imprudent  Phaeton 
with  his  thunderbolt.'' 

There  is  a  solemn  sense  at  first  (Maestoso),  a  mid- 
63 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

air  poise  of  the  harmony,  a  quick  spring  of  resolu- 
tion and — on  through  the  heavens.  At  the  outset 
and  always  is  the  pervading  musical  charm.  In 
the  beginning  is  the  enchantment  of  more  motion  in 
lightest  prancing  strings  and  harp  with  slowly  ascend- 
ing curve.  In  farther  journey  comes  a  spring  of  the 
higher  wood  and  soon  a  firm  note  of  horns  and  a  blast 
of  trumpets  on  a  chirruping  call,  till  the  whole  pano- 
ply of  solar  brilliance  is  shimmering.  Now  with  the 
continuing  pulse  (of  saltant  strings)  rings  a  buoyant, 

Allegro  animato 
(Violins) 


regnant  air  in  the  brass.  A  (canon)  chase  of  echoing 
voices  merely  adds  an  entrancing  bewilderment,  then 
yields  to  other  symbols  and  visions. 

Still  rises  the  thread  of  pulsing  strings  to  higher 
empynean  and  then  floats  forth  in  golden  horns,  as 
we  hang  in  the  heavens,  a  melody  tenderly  solemn, 
as  of  pent  delight,  or  perhaps  of  a  more  fatal  hue, 
with  the  solar  orb  encircled  by  his  satellites. 

Still  on  to  a  higher  pole  spins  the  dizzy  path ;  then 
at  the  top  of  the  song,  it  turns  in  slow  descending 
curve.  Almost  to  Avernus  seems  the  gliding  fall  when 
the  first  melody  rings  anew.  But  there  is  now  an 
anxious  sense  that  dims  the  joy  of  motion  and  in  the 
64 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  SAINT-SAENS 


(With  trembling  of  violins 
in  high  B  flat) 


returning  first  motive  jars  the  buoyant  spring. 
Through  the  maze  of  fugue  with  tinge  of  terror 
presses  the  fatuous  chase,  when — crash  comes  the 
shock  of  higher  power.  There  is  a  pause  of  motion 
in  the  din  and  a  downward  flight  as  of  lifeless  figure. 
Xow  seems  the  soul  of  the  sweet  melody  to  sing, 
in  purest  dirge,  without  the  shimmer  of  attendant 
motion  save  a  ghostly  shadow  of  the  joyous  symbol. 

THE  YOUTH  OF  HERCULES 

The  "  Legend  "  is  printed  in  the  score  as  follows : 

"  Fable  tells  us  that  upon  entering  into  life  Her- 
cules saw  the  two  paths  open  before  him :  of  pleasure 
and  of  virtue. 

"  Insensible  to  the  seductions  of  Nymphs  and  Bac- 
chantes, the  hero  devotes  himself  to  the  career  of 
struggle  and  combat,  at  the  end  of  which  he  glimpses 
across  the  flames  of  the  funeral  pyre  the  reward  of 
immortality." 

We  can  let  our  fancy  play  about  the  score  and 
wonderfully  hit  an  intention  of  the  poet.  Yet  that  is 
5  65 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

often  rather  a  self-flattery  than  a  real  perception. 
In  the  small  touches  we  may  lose  the  greater  beauty. 
Here,  after  all,  is  the  justification  of  the  music.  If 
the  graphic  picture  is  added,  a  little,  only,  is  gained. 
The  main  virtue  of  it  lies  in  our  better  grasp  of  tlu> 
musical  design. 

In  the  muted  strings,  straying  dreamily  in  pairs.  is 
a  vague  line  of  the  motto, — a  foreshadowing  of  the 
heroic  idea,  as  are  the  soft  calls  of  the  wind  with 
wooing  harp  a  first  vision  of  delight. 


Allegro  modtrato 
(Strings) 


Xow  begins  the  main  song  in  sturdy  course  of  un- 
muted  strings.  The  wood  soon  join  in  the  rehearsing. 
But  it  is  not  all  easy  deciphering.  The  song  wanders 
iii  gently  agitated  strings  while  the  horns  hold  a  sol- 
emn phrase  that  but  faintly  resembles  the  motto.* 

*  It  is  well  to  resist  the  vain  search  for  a  transnotation 
of  the  story.  And  here  we  see  a  virtue  of  Saint-Sai5ns  him 
self,  a  national  trait  of  poise  that  saved  him  from  losing 
the  music  in  the  picture.  His  symphonic  poems  must  be 
enjoyed  in  a  kind  of  musical  revery  upon  the  poetic  subject. 
He  disdained  the  rude  graphic  stroke,  and  used  dramatic 
means  only  where  a  musical  charm  was  commingled. 
66 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  SAINT-8AENS 

Lesser  phrases  play  about  the  bigger  in  rising  flight 
of  aspiration,  crowned  at  the  height  with  a  ray  of 
glad  light. 

As  the  dream  sinks  slowly  away,  the  stern  motto 
is  buried  in  quick  flashes  of  the  tempting  call.  These 
are  mere  visions;  now  comes  the  scene  itself  of 
temptation. 

To  ripples  of  harp  the  reed  sings  enchantingly 
in  swaying  rhythm ;  other  groups  in  new  surprise  of 

(Flutes,  oboe,  clarinets 
and  harp) 


scene  usurp  the  melody  with  the  languishing  answer, 
until  one  Siren  breaks  into  an  impassioned  burst, 
while  her  sisters  hold  the  dance. 

Straight  upon  her  vanished  echoes  shrieks  the  shrill 
pipe  of  war,  with  trembling  drum.  We  hear  a  yearn- 
ing sigh  of  the  Siren  strain  before  it  is  swept  away  in 
the  tide  and  tumult  of  strife.  Beneath  the  whirl  and 
motion,  the  flash  and  crash  of  arms,  we  have  glimpses 
of  the  heroic  figure. 

Here  is  a  strange  lay  in  the  fierce  chorus  of  battle- 
cries:  the  Siren  song  in  bright  insistence,  changed 
to  the  rushing  pace  of  war. 

The  scene  ends  in  a  crash.  Loud  sings  a  solemn 
phrase ;  do  we  catch  an  edge  of  wistful  regret  ?  Now 
67 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

returns  the  sturdy  course  of  the  main  heroic  melody ; 
only  it  is  slower  (Andante  sostenuto),  and  the  high 
stress  of  cadence  is  solemnly  impassioned. 

As  if  to  atone  for  the  slower  pace,  the  theme 
strikes  into  a  lively  fugue,  with  trembling  strings 
(Allegro  animato). 

There  is  an  air  of  achievement  in  the  relentless 
progress  and  the  insistent  recurrence  of  the  master- 
ful motive.  An  episode  there  is  of  mere  striving  and 
straining,  before  the  theme  resumes  its  vehement 
attack,  followed  by  lusty  echoes  all  about  as  of  an 
army  of  heroes.  There  is  the  breath  of  battle  in  the 
rumbling  basses  and  the  shaking,  quivering  brass. 

At  last  the  plain  song  resounds  in  simple  lines 
of  ringing  brass,  led  by  the  high  bugle.* 

Yet  the  struggle,  the  inner  combat,  is  not  over. 
At  the  very  moment  of  triumph  sings  on  high  over 
purling  harp  the  mastering  strain  of  Sirens,  is  buried 
beneath  martial  clash  and  emerges  with  its  enchant- 
ment. But  here  the  virile  mood  and  motive  gains  the 
victory  and  strides  on  to  final  scene. 

We  remember  how  Hercules  built  and  ascended 
his  own  funeral  pyre.  In  midst  of  quivering  strings, 
with  dashing  harp  and  shrieking  wood,  a  roll  of  drum 
and  a  clang  of  brass  sounds  the  solemn  chant  of  the 
trombone,  descending  in  relentless  steps.  As  the  low- 
est is  reached,  there  comes  a  spring  cf  freedom  in  the 

*  Saint-Saens  employs  besides  the  usual  4  horns,  2  trum- 
pets, 3  trombones  and  tuba,  a  small  bugle  (in  B-flat)  and 
2  cornets. 

68 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  SAINT-SAENS 

pulsing  figures,  like  the  winging  of  a  spirit,  and  a 
final  acclaim  in  a  brief  line  of  the  legend. 

OMPHALE'S  SPINNING  WHEEL 
Between  title  and  score  is  this  Notice: 
"  The  subject  of  this  symphonic  poem  is  feminine 
witchery,  the  triumphant  struggle  of  weakness.    The 
spinning  wheel  is  a  mere  pretext,  chosen  from  the 
point  of  view  of  rhythm  and  the  general  atmosphere 
of  the  piece. 

"  Those  persons  who  might  be  interested  in  a  study 
of  the  details  of  the  picture,  will  see  ...  the  hero 
groaning  in  the  toils  which  he  cannot  break,  and 
.  .  .  Omphale  mocking  the  vain  efforts  of  Hercules." 
The  versions  of  the  story  differ  slightly.  After  the 
fulfilment  of  his  twelve  labors  Hercules  is  ordered 
by  the  oracle  to  a  period  of  three  years'  service  to 
expiate  the  killing  of  the  son  of  King  Eurytus  in  a 
fit  of  madness.  Hermes  placed  him  in  the  household 
of  Omphale,  queen  of  Lydia,  widow  of  Tmolus. 
Hercules  is  degraded  to  female  drudgery,  is  clothed 
in  soft  raiment  and  set  to  spin  wool,  while  the  queen 
assumes  the  lion  skin  and  club. 

In  another  version  he  was  sold  as  slave  to  Omphale, 
who  restored  him  to  freedom.  Their  passion  was 
mutual.  The  story  has  a  likeness  to  a  similar  episode 
of  Achilles. 

The  spinning-wheel  begins  Andante  in  muted 
strings  alternating  with  flutes  and  gradually  hurries 
into  a  lively  motion.  Here  the  horn  accents  the 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

.-pinning,  while  a.uother  thread  (of  higher  wood) 
runs  through  the  graceful  woof.  A  chain  of  alluring 
harmonies  preludes  the  ensnaring  song,  mainly  of 
woodwind  above  the  humming  strings,  with  soft  dot- 
ting of  the  harmony  by  the  horns.  The  violins,  to 
l>e  sure,  often  enforce  the  melody. 

Andantino 

(Fl.  and  muted  violins) 


Jn  the  second  verse,  with  fuller  chorus,  the  harp 
«idds  its  touches  to  the  harmony  of  the  horns,  with 
lightest  tap  of  tonal  drum.  Later  a  single  note  of 
the  trumpet  is  answered  by  a  silvery  laugh  in  the 
wood.  Between  the  verses  proceeds  the  luscious 
chain  of  harmonies,  as  with  the  turning  of  the 
wheel. 

70 


THE  SYMPHONIC  POEMS  OF  SAINT-SAENS 

Xow  with  the  heavily  expressive  tones  of  low. 
immuted  strings  and  the  sonorous  basses  of  reed  and 
brass  (together  with  a  low  roll  of  drum  and  soft 
clash  of  cymbals)  an  heroic  air  sings  in  low  strings 
and  brass,  to  meet  at  each  period  a  shower  of  notes 
from  the  lia^-p.  The  song  grows  intense  with  the 


(Wood  and  trem.  violins  doubled  above) 


f>  espress.  e  pesante 
(Cellos,  basses,  bassoons  and  trombone,  doubled  below) 

added  clang  of  trumpets  and  roll  of  drums, — only  to 
succumb  to  the  more  eager  attack  of  the  siren  chorus. 
At  last  the  full  effort  of  strength  battling  vainly  with 
weakness  reaches  a  single  heroic  height  and  sinks 
away  with  dull  throbs. 

In  soothing  answer  falls  the  caressing  song  of 
*he  high  reed  in  the  phrase  of  the  heroic  strain, 
lightly,  quickly  and,  it  seems,  mockingly  aimed. 
In  gently  railing  triumph  returns  the  pretty  song 
of  the  wheel,  with  a  new  buoyant  spring.  Drums 
and  martial  brass  yield  to  the  laughing  flutes,  the  coo- 
ing horns  and  the  soft  rippling  harp  with  murmuring 
strings,  to  return  like  captives  in  the  train  at  the 
height  of  the  gaiety. 

71 


CHAPTER  VII 
CESAR  FRANCE 

THE  new  French  school  of  symphony  that  broke 
upon  the  world  in  the  latter  part  of  the  nine- 
teenth centuiy  had  its  pioneer  and  true  leader  in 
Cesar  Franck.*  It  was  he  who  gave  it  a  stamp 
and  a  tradition. 

The  novelty  of  his  style,  together  with  the  lateness 
of  his  acclaim  (of  which  it  was  the  probahle  cause), 
have  marked  him.  as  more  modern  than  others  who 
were  born  long  after  him. 

The  works  of  Franck,  in  other  lines  of  oratorio 
and  chamber  music,  show  a  clear  personality,  quite 
apart  from  a  prevailing  modern  spirit.  A  certain 
charm  of  settled  melancholy  seems  to  inhere  in  his 
wonted  style.  A  mystic  is  Franck  in  his  dominant 
moods,  with  a  special  sense  and  power  for  subtle 
harmonic  process,  ever  groping  in  a  spiritual  dis- 
content with  defined  tonality. 

A  glance  at  the  detail  of  his  art  discloses  Franck 
as  one  of  the  main  harmonists  of  his  age,  with 
Wagner  and  Grieg.  Only,  his  harmonic  manner  was 

*  If  language  and  association,  is  against  the  place  of 
birth,  may  define  nationality,  we  have  in  C6sar  Franck  an- 
other worthy  expression  of  French  art  in  the  symphony, 
He  was  born  at  Liege  in  1822 ;  he  died  in  1890. 
72 


C^SAR  FRANCK 

blended  if  not  balanced  by  a  stronger,  sounder 
counterpoint  than  either  of  the  others.  But  with  all 
the  originality  of  his  style  we  cannot  escape  a  sense  of 
the  stereotype,  that  indeed  inheres  in  all  music  that 
depends  mainly  on  an  harmonic  process.  His  har- 
monic ideas,  that  often  seem  inconsequential,  in  the 
main  merely  surprise  rather  than  move  or  please. 
The  enharmonic  principle  is  almost  too  predominant, 
— an  element  that  ought  never  to  be  more  than  occa- 
sional. For  it  is  founded  not  upon  ideal,  natural 
harmony,  but  upon  a  conventional  compromise,  an  ex- 
pedient compelled  by  the  limitation  of  instruments. 
This  over-stress  appears  far  stronger  in  the  music  of 
Franck's  followers,  above  all  in  their  frequent  use 
of  the  whole  tone  "  scale  "  which  can  have  no  other 
rationale  than  a  violent  extension  of  the  enharmonic 
principle.*  With  a  certain  quality  of  kaleidoscope, 
there  is  besides  (in  the  harmonic  manner  of  Cesar 
Franck)  an  infinitesimal  kind  of  progress  in  small- 
est steps.  It  is  a  dangerous  form  of  ingenuity,  to 

*  Absolute  harmony  would  count  many  more  than  the 
semitones  of  which  our  music  takes  cognizance.  For  pur- 
pose of  convenience  on  the  keyboard  the  semitonal  raising 
of  one  note  is  merged  in  the  lowering  of  the  next  higher 
degree  in  the  scale.  However  charming  for  occasional  sur- 
prise may  be  such  a  substitution,  a  continuous,  pervading 
use  cannot  but  destroy  the  essential  beauty  of  harmony 
and  the  clear  sense  of  tonality;  moreover  it  is  mechanical 
in  process,  devoid  of  poetic  fancy,  purely  chaotic  in  effect. 
There  is  ever  a  danger  of  confusing  the  novel  in  art  with 
new  beauty. 

73 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

which  the  French  are  perhaps  most  prone, — an  orig- 
inality mainly  in  details. 

And  yet  we  mu.st  praise  in  the  French  master  a 
wonderful  workmanship  and  a  profound  sincerity 
of  sentiment.  He  shows  probably  the  highest  point 
to  which  a  style  that  is  mainly  harmonic  may  rise. 
But  when  he  employs  his  broader  mastery  of  tonal 
architecture,  he  attains  a  rare  height  of  lofty  feeling, 
with  reaches  of  true  dramatic  passion. 

The  effect,  to  be  sure,  of  his  special  manner  is 
somewhat  to  dilute  the  temper  of  his  art,  and  to  de- 
press the  humor.  It  is  thus  that  the  pervading 
melancholy  almost  compels  the  absence  of  a  ({ slow 
movement "  in  his  symphony.  And  so  we  feel  in  all 
his  larger  works  for  instruments  a  suddenness  of 
recoil  in  the  Finale. 

One  can  see  in  Franck,  in  analogy  with  his  German 
contemporaries,  an  etherealized  kind  of  {t  Tristan  and 
Isolde/' — a  "Paolo  and  Francesca"  in  a  world  of 
shades.  Compared  with  his  followers  the  quality  of 
stereotype  in  Franck  is  merely  geaieral ;  there  is  no 
excessive  use  of  one  device. 

A  baflling  element  in  viewing  the  art  of  Franck  is 
his  remoteness  of  spirit,  the  strangeness  of  his  temper. 
He  lacked  the  joyous  spring  that  is  a  dominant  note 
in  the  classic  period.  Xor  on  the  other  hand  did  his 
music  breathe  the  pessimism  and  naturalism  that 
came  with  the  last  rebound  of  Romantic  reaction. 
Rather  was  his  vein  one  of  high  spiritual  absorp- 
tion— not  so  much  in  recoil,  as  merely  apart  from 
74 


OESAR  FRANCK 

the  world  in  a  kind  of  pious  seclusion.  Perhaps  his 
main  point  of  view  was  the  church-organ.  He  seems 
a  religious  prophet  in  a  non-religious  age.  With  his 
immediate  disciples  he  was  a  leader  in  the  manner  of 
his  art,  rather  than  in  the  temper  of  his  poetry. 

SYMPHONY  IN  D  MINOR 

The  scoring  shows  a  sign  of  modern  feeling  in  the 
prominence  of  the  brasses.  With  all  contrast  of 
spirit,  the  analog}'  of  Franck  with  the  Liszt- Wagner 
school  and  manner  is  frequently  suggestive. 

The  main  novelty  of  outer  detail  is  the  plan  of 
merely  three  movements.  Xor  is  there  a  return  to  the 
original  form,  without  the  Scherzo.  To  judge  from 
the  headings,  the  "  slow "  movement  is  absent.  In 
truth,  by  way  of  cursory  preamble,  the  chronic  vein 
of  Cesar  Franck  is  so  ingrainedly  reflective  that  there 
never  can  be  with  him  an  absence  of  the  meditative 
phrase.  Bather  must  there  be  a  vehement  rousing 
of  his  muse  from  a  state  of  mystic  adoration  to  rhyth- 
mic energy  and  cheer.* 

*  The  key  of  the  work  is  given  by  the  composer  as  D 
minor.  The  first  movement  alone  is  in  the  nominal  key. 
The  second  (in  B  flat)  is  in  the  submediant,  the  last  in  the 
tonic  major.  The  old  manner  in  church  music,  that  Bach 
often  used,  of  closing  a  minor  tonality  with  a  major  chord, 
was  probably  due  to  a  regard  for  the  mood  of  the  con- 
gregation. An  extension  of  this  tradition  is  frequent  in  a 
long  coda  in  the  major.  But  this  is  quite  different  in  kind 
from  a  plan  where  all  of  the  last  movement  is  in  insistent 
major.  We  know  that  it  is  quite  possible  to  begin  a  work 
75 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Lento  in  basses  of  the  strings  a  strain  sounds  like 
a  basic  motive,  answered  with  harmonies  in  the  wood. 
In  further  strings  lies  the  full  tenor  of  quiet  reflec- 
tion, with  sombre  color  of  tonal  scheme.  Motives 
are  less  controlling  probably  in  Franck  than  in  any 
other  symphonist, — less  so,  at  any  rate,  than  his  one 


special  mood  and  manner.  Yet  nowhere  is  the  strict 
figural  plot  more  faithful  in  detail  than  with  Cesar 
Franck. 

The  theme  has  an  entirely  new  ring  and  answer 
when  it  enters  Allegro  after  the  Lento  prelude.  The 
further  course  of  the  tune  here  is  in  eccentric,  resolute 
stride  in  the  descending  scale.  Our  new  answer  is 
much  evident  in  the  bass.  The  Allegro  seems  a  mere 
irruption;  for  the  Lento  prelude  reappears  in  full 
solemnity.  Indeed,  with  all  the  title  and  pace,  this 

at  some  distance  from  the  main  key,  leading  to  it  by 
tortuous  path  of  modulation;  though  there  is  no  reason 
why  we  may  not  question  the  composer's  own  inscription, 
the  controlling  point  is  really  the  whole  tonal  scheme. 
Here  the  key  of  the  second  movement  is  built  on  a  design 
in  minor, — would  have  less  reason  in  the  major.  For  it 
rests  on  a  degree  that  does  not  exist  in  the  tonic  major. 
To  be  sure,  Beethoven  did  invent  the  change  to  a  lowered 
submediant  in  a  succeeding  movement.  And,  of  course, 
the  final  turn  to  the  tonic  major  is  virtually  as  great  a 
license. 

76 


FRANCK 

seems  very  like  the  virtual  "slow"  movement.  A 
mood  of  rapt,  almost  melancholy  absorption  prevails, 
with  rare  flashes  of  joyous  utterance,  where  the 
Allegro  enters  as  if  to  break  the  thrall  of  meditation. 
A  very  striking  inversion  of  the  theme  now  appears. 
The  gradual  growth  of  phrases  in  melodious  instal- 
ments is  a  trait  of  Franck  (as  it  is  of  Richard 
Strauss),  'fhe  rough  motto  at  each  turn  has  a  new 


Allegro  non  troppo 

(String8) 


(Wind) 


phase  and  frequently  is  transfigured  to  a  fresh  tune. 
So  out  of  the  first  chance  counterfigures  somehow 
spring  beautiful  melodies,  where  we  feel  the  fitness 
and  the  relevance  though  we  have  not  heard  them 
before.  It  is  a  quality  that  Franck  shares  with 
Brahms,  so  that  in  a  mathematical  spirit  we  might 
care  to  deduce  all  the  figures  from  the  first  phrase. 
This  themal  manner  is  quite  analogous  to  the  har- 
monic style  of  Franck, — a  kaleidoscope  of  gradual 
steps,  a  slow  procession  of  pale  hues  of  tone  that  with 
strange  aptness  reflect  the  dim  religious  light  of 
mystic  musing. 

More  and  more  expressive  are  the  stages  of  the  first 
77 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

figures  until  we  have  a  duet  molto  cantabile  in  the 
strings.!  Much  of  the  charm  of  the  movement  lies 
in  the;  balance  of  the  new  rhythms,  the  eccentric  and 
the  flowing.  By  some  subtle  path  there  grows  a  song 

Allegro.  Molto  cantabile 

I      U   . 


in  big  tones  of  unison,  wood  and  strings  and  trum- 
pets, that  is  the  real  hymnal  refrain  of  the  movement. 
Between  this  note  almost  of  exultation  and  all  shades 
of  pious  dreaming  the  mood  is  constantly  shifting. 


Another  phrase  rises  also  to  a  triumphant  height  (the 
clear  reverse  of  the  former  tuneful  melody)  that 
comes  now  like  a  big  envoi  of  assuring  message. 

Though  the  whole  movement  is  evenly  balanced  be 
tween  Allegro  and  Penseroso  (so  far  as  pace  is  con 
78 


CESAR  FRANCK 

cerned),  the  mood  of  reflection  really  finds  full  vent; 
it  has  no  reason  for  a  further  special  expression. 

Simple  as  the  Allegretto  appears  in  its  suggestion 
of  halting  dance,  the  intent  in  the  episodes  is  of  the 
subtlest.  The  slow  trip  of  strings  and  harp  is  soon 
given  a  new  meaning  with  the  melody  of  English 
horn.  Throughout  we  are  somehow  divided  between 
pure  dance  and  a  more  thoughtful  muse.  In  the  first 
departure  to  an  episode  in  major,  seems  to  sing  the 
essence  of  the  former  melody  in  gently  murmuring 
strings,  where  later  the  whole  chorus  are  drawn  in. 
The  song  moves  on  clear  thread  and  wing  right  out 
of  the  mood  of  the  dance-tune;  but  the  very  charm 
lies  in  the  mere  outer  change  of  guise.  And  so  the 
second  episode  is  still  far  from  all  likeness  with  the 
first  dance  beyond  a  least  sense  of  the  old  ^  trip  that 
does  appear  here  and  there.  It  is  all  clearly  a  true 
scheme  of  variations,  the  main  theme  disguised  be- 
yond outer  semblance,  yet  faithfully  present  through- 
out in  the  essential  rhythm  and  harmony. 

In  the  Finale,  Allegro  non  troppo,  we  are  really 
clear,  at  the  outset,  of  the  toils  of  musing  melancholy. 


Allegro  non  troppo 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

After  big  bursts  of  chords,  a  tune  .rolls  pleasantly 
along,  dolce  cantabile,  in  basses  of  wood  and  strings. 
Expressive  after-phrases  abound,  all  in  the  same 
jolly  mood,  until  the  whole  band  break  boisterously 
on  the  simple  song,  with  a  new  sonorous  phrase  of 
basses.  Then,  in  sudden  remove,  sounds  the  purest 
bit  of  melody  of  all  the  symphony,  in  gentlest  tones 


Dolce  cantabile 


I 
(In  the  brass) 

of  braes  (trumpet,  trombone  and  tuba).  But, 
though  in  complete  recoil  from  the  rhythmic  energy 
of  Allegro  theme,  it  is  even  farther  from  the  re- 
flective mood  than  the  latter.  It  shows,  in  this  very 
contrast,  the  absence  of  the  true  lyric  in  the  meditative 
vein,  frequent  with  Cesar  Franck.  The  burst  of 
melody  blossoms  ever  fairer.  In  its  later  musing  the 
tune  browses  in  the  bass.  A  waving  phrase  grows  in 
the  violins,  which  continues  with  strange  evenness 
through  the  entrance  of  new  song  where  we  are  sur- 
prised by  the  strange  fitness  of  the  Allegretto  melody. 
And  the  second  phase  of  the  latter  follows  as  if  it 
belonged  here.  So,  almost  listless,  without  a  hair  of 
80 


CESAR  FRANCK 

rhythmic  change  (les  temps  out  ton  jours  la  meme 
mleur),  the  Finale  theme  sings. again  most  softly 
in  the  strings.  It  has,  to  be  sure,  lost  all  of  its 
color,  without  the  original  throb  of  accompanying 
sounds.  The  phase  of  the  movement  is  a  shadowy 
procession  of  former  ideas,  united  in  the  dreamy  haze 
that  enshrouds  them.  The  stir  that  now  begins  is 
not  of  the  first  pale  hue  of  thought,  rather  the  vein 
of  big  discussion,  brewing  a  storm  that  breaks  finally 
in  full  blast  on  the  gentle  melody  (of  the  brass) 
transfigured  in  ringing  triumph,  in  all  the  course  of 
the  song.  Nor  is  the  succeeding  phase  the  mystic 
habit  of  our  poet ;  it  is  a  mere  farther  digestion  of  the 
meat  of  the  melody  that  leads  once  more  to  a  height 
of  climax  whence  we  return  to  first  course  of  themes, 
tuneful  afterphrase  and  all,  with  the  old  happy 
motion.  The  counterpoint  here  is  the  mere  joyous 
ringing  of  many  strains  all  about. 

Against  all  rules  comes  a  new  chorusing  paean  on 
the  theme  of  Allegretto,  led  by  stentorian  basses,  to- 
gether with  an  enchanting  after-strain,  which  we 
might  have  remarked  before.  And  still  another  quar- 
ter, long  hushed,  is  heard  anew,  as  a  voice  sounds  a 
faint  reminder  of  the  hymn  of  the  first  Allegro. 
Indeed,  the  combining  strains  before  the  close  seem 
sprung  all  of  one  parental  idea.  The  motto  of  the 
beginning  sings  in  fittest  answer  to  the  latest  phrases. 
The  very  maze  of  the  concert  forbids  our  turning  to 
their  first  origin.  The  end  is  in  joyous  chanting  of 
the  Finale  melody. 

6  81 


CHAPTER  VIII 

D'INDY  AND  THE  FOLLOWERS  OF  FRANCE 

PERHAPS  the  noblest  essay  in  symphonic  music 
of  the  followers  of  Franck  is  the  second  sym- 
phony of  Vincent  D'Indy.*  His  vein  is  indeed 
throughout  nearest  akin  of  all  the  disciples  to  the 
serious  muse  of  the  master. 

Though  D'Indy  is  surpassed  in  a  certain  poetic 
originality  by  some  of  his  compatriot  contemporaries, 
there  is  in  this  symphony  a  breadth  of  design  and 
detail,  a  clear  melodic  quality  and  a  sustained  lofty 
feeling  that  seem  to  mark  it  the  typical  French  sym- 
phony of  its  time.  The  strength  of  the  work  lies  in 
a  unity  that  is  not  merely  of  figure  and  outline.  If 
we  must  measure  a  symphony  mainly  by  the  slow 
movement,  we  cannot  avoid,  with  all  the  languorous 
beauty,  a  certain  conventionality  of  mood,  stressed 
with  an  exotic  use  of  the  appoggiatura,  while  in  the 
Scherzo  is  a  refined  savagery  of  modern  cacophony. 

The  directions  are  all  in  French;  we  are  reminded 
of  Schumann's  departure  from  the  Italian  fashion. 

Eacli  movement,  save  the  third,  has  its  prelude : 
a  gathering  of  threads  before  the  new  story.  The 
first  notes  of  basses,  together  with  the  answer  on 
high,  sound  a  prophetic  legend  of  the  whole. 

'Vincent  d'Indy  was  born  in  Paris  on  March  27,  1852. 
82 


D'INDY  AND  THE  FOLLOWERS  OF  FRAXCK 


The  harmonic  lucubrations  are  profoundly  subtle. 
Indeed  the  very  nature  of  the  first  phrase  is  of  dim 


Ejctrtmen£nt     (Woodwind)^, 

Lent. 
-K. 


|  f-r-  — J- 

(Strings  and  harps) 

groping;  it  ends  in  a  climax  of  the  answer  and 
merges  into  the  main  song  of  the  Allegro  (tres  vif)  in 
horns,  with  rapid  trip  of  strings. 

Tres  vif  (Horns) 
n     '   I 


HZ  ft         |  j  I  — p= 


— *—fi—fi— ?-*•-* — -4t-mf— g— g  mf  0f 


(Strings) 


ia^^rf^^jjj  fer£ 


Throughout  (from  a  technical  view)  is  a  fine  mas- 
tery of  the  device  of  ornamental  notes,  and  secondary 
83 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

harmonies;  there  is  also  a  certain  modern  sense  of 
chords  and  their  relations.  Together  with  an  infinite 
brilliance  of  these  resources  there  is  not  only  no 
weakness  in  cogency  of  form,  but  there  is  a  rare  unity 
of  design.  The  movements  are  bound  together,  at 
least  in  themal  relation,  as  strictly  as  in  any 
symphony.  While  the  first  phrase  of  the  Allegro 
theme  may  hark  back  to  the  answer  of  original 
motto,  the  second  is  the  main  thread  of  narra- 

( Flutes,  oboes  and  clarinets) 

£535^&=^J=ffl3=E    s^ 


p-       -     \f     w     jj     y    ^    v 
Sempre  staccato 

tive.  Again  and  again  is  th«  climax  rung  on  the  first 
high  note  of  the  theme.  Then,  in  lieu  of  cadence, 
out  of  a  bright  dissonance  the  quick  notes  dance  up- 
ward in  sturdy  pace,  the  answer  of  the  Allegro  in 
sharp  disguise.  And  then  from  the  height  descends 
a  refreshing  spray  of  subtlest  discords,  ending  in 
another  masterful  burst  of  new  harmony. 

The  dainty,  dazzling  play  is  stopped  by  a  rough 
thud  of  basses  and  a  fierce  clang  of  chords.  In  the 
sharp  blare  of  brass  on  the  ascending  phrase  is 
almost  lost  the  original  motto  in  lowest  basses.  It 
is  now  heard  in  gradually  quickened  speed,  while  the 
rising  phrase  runs  more  timidly.  At  last  the  quick- 
ened motto  sinks  gently  into  lulling  motion,  un  pen 
84 


D'INDY  AND  THE  FOLLOWERS  OF  FRANCK 

plus  modere.  Above,  in  strings  and  horns,  the  melody 
haunts  us  with  a  dim  sense  that  takes  us  to  the  first 
languishing  answer  of  the  original  legend.  And  the 
whole  is  strong-knit;  for  the  very  Allegro  theme  be- 
gan in  resolute  mood  of  a  like  figure.  A  counter- 
strain  rises  to  meet  the  main  phrase.  The  whole 
episode  is  an  intertwining  of  song  in  the  vein  of  the 
first  answer  of  motto. 

The  quick  rising  notes  suddenly  return  with 
snatches  of  the  main  motive,  the  chain  of  echoing 
phrases  runs  a  gamut  of  moods,  fitful,  anxious, 
soothed,  until  the  bright  upward  trip  begins  anew, 
with  the  enchanting  burst  of  chord  and  descending 
harmonies.  A  climactic  height  is  stressed  by  a  rough 
meeting  of  opposing  groups,  in  hostile  tone  and  move- 
ment, ending  in  a  trill  of  flutes  and  a  reentry  of  the 
episode. 

In  the  returning  Allegro  the  thread  is  still  the 
same,  though  richer  in  color  and  texture.  Again 
there  is  the  plunge  into  dark  abyss,  with  shriek  of 
harp,  and  the  ominous  theme  in  the  depths.  The 
slow  ascending  phrase  here  has  a  full  song  and  sway. 
The  end  is  in  spirited  duet  of  two  quick  motives. 

The  second  movement,  modcrcment  lent,  begins  in 
revery  on  the  answer  of  original  motive,  and  the 
stately  pathos  of  the  theme,  in  horns,  clarinets  and 
violas,  with  rhythmic  strings,  grows  natural!}1"  out  of 
the  mood. 

Plu&  (mime,  in  subtle  change  of  pace  (from  %  to  %) , 
the  episode  begins  with  eccentric  stride  of  harps 
85 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


(and   added   woodwind),   that  serves   as   a   kind   of 


Moderement  Lent. 

mf          _ 


(Melody  in  horns,  clarinets 
and  violas) 


(Acc'd  in  fry     fr  IF      1r  f 
strings)     I    I 

accompanying  figure  and  foil  for  the  sweeping  song 
of  the  real  second  melody  (in  oboe  solo,  succeeded  by 
the  clarinet). 

(Oboe  solo) 


(Acc't  in  bassoons,  horns,  harps  and  basses) 


In  the  clash  of  themes  and  harmonies  of  the  climax, 
the  very  limits  of  modern  license  seem  to  be  invoked. 
Later  the  three  themes  are  entwined  in  a  passage 
of  masterly  counterpoint. 

There  is  a  touch  of  ancient  harmony  in  the  delicate 
tune  of  third  movement,  which  has  the  virtue  of  end- 


D'INDY  AND  THE  FOLLOWERS  OF  FRANCK 


less  weaving.  It  is  sung  by  solo  violin,  mainly  sup- 
ported by  a  choir  of  lower  strings. 
.  A  final  conclusive  line  is  given  by  the  solo  flute. 
Besides  the  constant  course  of  varying  tune,  there  is 
a  power  of  ever  changing  harmony  that  seems  to  lie 
in  some  themes. 


Modere     (Viola  solo) 


~H-Ttirv--|  n  i  -I 

H^rbJ«iJtp  \*  •  J   -J 


mf  Tres  simplement 

^rs    \*=+^=+=^ 

— L zntuzziz Cur 


One  can  hardly  call  it  all  a  Scherzo.  It  is  rather 
an  idyll  after  the  pathos  of  the  Andante.  Or,  from 
another  view,  reversing  the  usual  order,  we  may  find 
the  quality  of  traditional  Trio  in  the  first  melody  and 
a  bacchanale  of  wild  humor  in  the  middle.  For,  out 

Tres  animc 


(Woodwind  and  strings) 


of  a  chance  phrase  of  horns  grows  of  all  the  sym- 
phony    the     boldest     harmonic     phrase     (repeated 

87 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

through  ten  bars).  Above  rings  a  barbarous  cry,  in 
defiance  of  common  time  and  rhythm. 

Suddenly  we  are  surprised  by  the  sound  of  the 
martial  stride  of  the  second  theme  of  the  Andante 
which  moves  on  the  sea  of  rough  harmony  as  on  a 
native  element.  One  whim  follows  another.  The 
same  motion  is  all  there,  but  as  if  in  shadow,  in  soft- 
est sound,  and  without  the  jar  of  discord;  then  comes 
the  fiercest  clash  of  all,  and  now  a  gayest  dance  of  the 
first  tune,  assez  vif,  in  triple  rhythm,  various  figures 
having  their  pas  seul.  A  second  episode  returns, 
brilliant  in  high  pace  but  purged  of  the  former  war 
of  sounds.  At  the  end  is  the  song  of  the  first  tune, 
with  new  pranks  and  sallies. 

The  beginning  of  the  Finale  is  all  in  a  musing 
review  of  past  thoughts.  The  shadow  of  the  last 
tune  lingers,  in  slower  pace;  the  ominous  dirge  of 
first  motto  sounds  below;  the  soothing  melody  of 
the  Andante  sings  a  verse.  In  solemn  fugue  the 
original  motto  is  reared  from  its  timid  phrase  to 
masterful  utterance,  with  splendid  stride.  Or 


f)  (Cellos  and  basses) 
rather  the  theme  is  blended  of  the  first  two 
phrases,  merging  their  opposite  characters  in  the 
new  mood  of  resolution.  The  strings  prepare  for  the 
sonorous  entrance  of  woodwind  and  horns.  One  of 
the  greatest  fugal  episodes  of  symphonies,  it  is  yet 


D'INDY  AND  THE  FOLLOWERS  OF  FRANCK 

a  mere  prelude  to  the  real  movement,  where  the  light 
theme  is  drawn  from  a  phrase  of  latest  cadence. 
And  the  dim  hue  of  minor  which  began  the  sym- 
phony, and  all  overspread  the  prelude,  at  last 
yields  to  the  clear  major.  There  is  something  of 
the  struggle  of  shadow  and  light  of  the  great  third 
symphony  of  Brahms. 

The  continuous  round  of  the  theme,  in  its  unstable 
pace  (of  %),  has  a  strange  power  of  motion,  the  feel- 


(  Strings) 


ing  of  old  passacaglia.  To  be  sure,  it  is  the  mere 
herald  and  companion  of  the  crowning  tune,  in  solo 
of  the  reeds. 

From  the  special  view  of  structure,  there  is  no 
symphony,  modern  or  classic,  with  such  an  overpower- 
ing combination  and  resolution  of  integral  themes  in 
one  movement.  So  almost  constant  is  the  derivation 
of  ideas,  that  one  feels  they  must  be  all  related. 
Thus,  the  late  rush  of  rhythm,  in  the  Finale,  is 
broken  by  a  quiet  verse  where  with  enchanting  sub- 
tlety we  are  carried  back  somewhere  to  the  idyll  of 
third  movement. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Above,  rises  another  melody,  and  from  it*  simple 
outline  grows  a  fervor  and  pathos  that,  aside  from 
the  basic  themes  of  the  whole  work,  strike  the  main 
feeling  of  the  Finale. 


Un  peu  moina  vile 


The  martial  trip  from  the  Andante  joins  later  in 
the  return  of  the  whirling  rhythm.  At  last  the 
motto  strikes  on  high,  but  the  appealing  counter- 
melodv  is  not  easilv  hushed. 


(Ob.) 
mf 


(Cellos  with  tremolo  violins) 


It  bregfcs  out  later  in  a  verse  of  exalted  beauty  and 
passion.  The  struggle  of  the  two  ideas  remind <  u> 
of  the  Fifth  Symphony.  At  last  the  gloom  of  the 
fateful  motto  is  relieved  by  the  return  of  the  original 
answer,  and  we  seem  to  see  a  new  source  of  latest 
ideas,  so  that  we  wonder  whether  all  the  melodies  are 
hut  guises  of  the  motto  and  answer,  which  now  at  the 
close,  sing  in  united  tones  a  hymn  of  peace  and  bliss 
90 


CHAPTER  IX 
DEBUSSY  AND  THE  INNOVATORS 

AL"  intervals  during  the  course  of  the  art  have 
appeared  the  innovators  and  pioneers, — rebel;; 
against  the  accepted  manner  and  idiom.  The  mys- 
tery is  that  while  they  seem  necessary  to  progress 
they  seldom  create  enduring1  works.  The  shadows- 
lines  may  begin  somewhere  among  the  Hucbalds 
and  other  early  adventurers.  One  of  the  most  strik- 
ing figures  is  Peri,  who  boldly,  almost  impiously, 
abandoned  the  contrapuntal  style,  the  onhr  one  sanc- 
tioned by  tradition,  and  set  the  dramatic  parts  in 
informal  musical  prose  with  a  mere  strumming  of 
instruments. 

It  is  not  easy  to  see  the  precise  need  of  such  reac- 
tion. The  radical  cause  is  probably  a  kind  of  inertia 
in  all  things  human,  by  which  the  accepted  is  thought 
the  only  way.  Rules  spring  up  that  are  never  wholly 
true ;  at  best  they  are  shifts  to  guide  the  student,  in- 
adequate conclusions  from  past  art.  The  essence  of 
an  art  can  never  be  put  in  formulas.  Else  we  should 
be  content  with  the  verbal  form.  The  best  excuse 
for  the  rule  is  that  it  is  meant  to  guard  the  element 
of  truth  in  art  from  meretricious  pretence. 

And,  we  must  not  forget,  Art  progresses  by  slow 
degrees:  much  that  is  right  in  one  age  could  not 
come  in  an  earlier,  before  the  intervening  step. 
91 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  masters,  when  they  had  won  their  spurs,  were 
ever  restive  under  rules.*  Yet  they  underwent  the 
strictest  discipline,  gaining  early  the  secret  of  expres- 
sion; for  the  best  purpose  of  rules  is  liberation,  not 
restraint.  On  the  other  hand  they  were,  in  the  main, 
essentially  conservative.  Sebastian  Bach  clung  to  the 
older  manner,  disdaining  the  secular  sonata  for  which 
his  son  was  breaking  the  ground. 

The  master  feels  the  full  worth  of  what  lias  been 
achieved ;  else  he  has  not  mastered.  He  merely  gives 
a  crowning  touch  of  poetic  message,  while  the  lighter 
mind  is  busy  with  tinkering  of  newer  forms.  Fcr 
the  highest  reaches  of  an  art,  the  poet  must  first  have 
grasped  all  that  has  gone  before.  He  will  not  rebel 
before  he  knows  the  spirit  of  the  law,  nor  spend  him- 
self on  novelty  for  its  own  sake. 

The  line  between  the  Master  and  the  Radical  may 
often  seem  vague.  For,  the  former  has  his  Pro- 

*  Some  of  the  chance  sayings  of  Mozart  ( recently  edited 
by  Kerst-Elberfeld )  betray  much  contempt  for  academic 
study :  "  Learning  from  books  is  of  no  account.  Here, 
here,  and  here  (pointing  to  ear,  head,  and  heart)  is  your 
school."  On  the  subject  of  librettists  "  with  their  profes- 
sional tricks,"  he  says :  "  If  we  composers  were  equally 
faithful  to  our  own  rules  (which  were  good  enough  when 
men  knew  no  better),  we  should  turn  out  just  as  poor  a 
quality  in  our  music  as  they  in  their  librettos."  Yet,  else- 
where, he  admits:  "  Xo  one  has  spent  so  much  pains  on 
the  study  of  composition  as  myself.  There  is  hardly  a 
famous  master  in  music  whom  I  have  not  read  through 
diligently  and  often." 

92 


DEBUSSY  AND  THE  INNOVATORS 

methean  strokes,  all  unpremeditated,  compelled  by 
the  inner  sequence, — as  when  Beethoven  strikes  the 
prophetic  drum  in  the  grim  Scherzo  of  the  Fifth 
Symphony;  or  in  the  Eroica  when  the  horn  sounds 
sheer  ahead,  out  of  line  with  the  sustaining  chorus; 
or  when  Bach  leaps  to  his  harmonic  heights  in  organ 
fantasy  and  toccata;  or  Mozart  sings  his  exquisite 
clashes  in  the  G  Minor  Symphony. 

As  the  true  poet  begins  by  absorption  of  the  art 
that  he  finds,  his  early  utterance  will  be  imitative. 
His  ultimate  goal  is  not  the  strikingly  new  but  the 
eternally  true.  It  is  a  question  less  of  men  than  of 
a  point  of  view. 

It  seems  sometimes  that  in  art  as  in  politics  two 
parties  are  needed,  one  balancing  the  weaknesses  of 
the  other.  As  certain  epochs  are  overburdened  by 
the  spirit  of  a  past  poet,  so  others  are  marred  by 
the  opposite  excess,  by  a  kind  of  neo-mania.  The 
latter  comes  naturally  as  reaction  from  the  former. 
Between  them  the  poet  holds  the  balance  of  clear 
vision. 

When  Peri  overthrew  the  trammels  of  counter- 
point, in  a  dream  of  Hellenic  revival  of  drama,  he 
could  not  hope  to  write  a  master-work.  Destructive 
rebellion  cannot  be  blended  with  constructive  beauty. 
An  antidote  is  of  necessity  not  nourishment.  Others 
may  follow  the  path-breaker  and  slowly  reclaim  the 
best  of  old  tradition  froni  the  new  soil.  The  strange 
part  of  this  rebellion  is  that  it  is  always  marked  by 
the  quality  of  stereotype  which  it  seeks  to  avoid.  This 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

.is  an  invariable  symptom.  It  cannot  be  otherwise; 
for  the  rejection  of  existing  art  leaves  too  few  re- 
sources. Moreover,  the  pioneer  has  his  eye  too  exclu- 
sively upon  the  mere  manner. 

A  wholesome  reaction  there  may  be  against  excess. 
When  Gluck  dared  to  move  the  hearts  of  his  hearers 
instead  of  tickling  their  ears,  he  achieved  his  purpose 
by  positive  beauty,  without  actual  loss.  In  this  sense 
every  work  of  art  is  a  work  of  revolution.  So  Wag- 
ner, especially  in  his  earlier  dramas,*  by  sheer  sin- 
cerity and  poetic  directness,  corrected  a  frivolous  tra- 
dition of  opera.  But  when  he  grew  destructive  of 
melody  and  form,  by  theory  and  practice,  lie  sank 
to  the  role  of  innovator,  with  pervading  trait  of 
stereotype,  in  the  main  merely  adding  to  the  lesser 
resources  of  the  art.  His  later  works,  though  they 
contain  episodes  of  overwhelming  beauty,  cannot  have 
&  place  among  the  permanent  classics,  alone  by  reason 
of  their  excessive  reiteration. 

One  of  the  most  charming  instances  of  this  icono- 
•clasm  is  the  music  of  Claude  Debussy. f  In  a  way  we 
are  reminded  of  the  first  flash  of  Wagner's  later  man- 
ner: the  same  vagueness  of  tonality,  though  with  a 
different  complexion  and  temper.  Like  the  German, 
Debussy  has  his  own  novel  use  of  instruments.  He 
is  also  a  rebel  against  episodic  melody.  Only,  with 
Wagner  the  stand  was  more  of  theory  than  of  prac- 

*  The    "  Flying   Dutchman,"    "  Lohengrin  "    and    "  Tann- 
Muser  "  seemed  destined  to  survive  Wagner's  later  works. 
fBorn   in   1862. 

94 


DEBUSSY  AND  THE  INNOVATORS 

tice.  His  lyric  inspiration  was  here  too  strong; 
otherwise  with  Debussy.  Each  article  of  rebellion 
is  more  highly  stressed  in  the  French  leader,  save  as 
to  organic  form,  where  the  latter  is  far  the  stronger. 
And  finally  the  element  of  mannerism  cannot  be  gain- 
said in  either  composer.* 

Among  the  special  traits  of  Debussy's  harmonic 
manner  is  a  mingling  with  the  main  chord  of  the 
third  below.  There  is  a  building  downward,  as  it 
were.  The  harmony,  complete  as  it  stands,  seeks  a 
lower  foundation  so  that  the  plain  tower  (as  it  looked 
at  first)  is  at  the  end  a  lofty  minaret.  It  is  striking 
that  a  classic  figure  in  French  music  should  have 
stood,  in  the  early  eighteenth  century,  a  champion 
of  this  idea,  to  be  sure  only  in  the  domain  of  theory. 
There  is  a  touch  of  romance  in  the  fate  of  a  pioneer, 
rejected  for  his  doctrine  in  one  age,  taken  up  in  the 
art  of  two  centuries  later,  f 

*  Some  recurring  traits  Wagner  and  Debussy  have  in 
common,  such  as  the  climactic  chord  of  the  ninth.  The 
melodic  appoggiatura  is  as  frequent  in  the  earlier  German 
as  the  augmented  chord  of  the  fifth  in  the  later  Frenchman. 

f  Rameau,  when  the  cyclopaedic  spirit  was  first  stirring 
and  musical  art  was  sounding  for  a  scientific  basis,  insisted 
on  the  element  of  the  third  below,  implying  a  tonic  chord 
of  6,  5,  3.  Here  he  was  opposed  by  Fetis,  Fux  and  other 
theoretic  authority;  judgment  was  definitively  rendered 
against  him  by  contemporary  opinion  and  prevailing  tra- 
dition. It  cannot  be  said  that  the  modern  French  practice 
has  justified  Rameau's  theory,  since  with  all  the  charm  of 
the  enriched  chord,  there  is  ever  a  begging  of  the  question 
of  the  ultimate  root/ 

95 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

A  purely  scientific  basis  must  be  shunned  in  any 
dixect  approa-ch  of  the  art  whether  critical  or  creative, 
— alone  for  the  fatal  allurement  of  a  separate  re- 
search. The  truth  is  that  a  spirit  of  fantastic  experi- 
ment, started  by  the  mystic  manner  of  a  Cesar 
Franck,  sought  a  sanction  in  the  phenomena  of  acous- 
tics. So  it  is  likely  that  the  enharmonic  process  of 
Franck  led  to  the  strained  use  of  the  whole-tone  scale 
(of  which  we  have  spoken  above)  by  a  further  depar- 
ture from  tonality.*  And  yet,  in  all  truth,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  of  the  delight  of  these  flashes  of  the 
modern  French  poet, — a  delicate  charm  as  beguiling 
as  the  bolder,  warmer  harmonies  of  the  earlier  Ger- 
man. Instead  of  the  broad  exultation  of  Wagner 
there  is  in  Debussy  the  subtle,  insinuating  disso- 
nance. Nor  is  the  French  composer  wanting  in  auda- 
cious strokes.  Once  for  all  he  stood  the  emancipator 
of  the  art  from  the  stern  rule  of  individual  vocal 
procedure.  He  cut  the  Gordian  knot  of  harmonic 
pedagogy  by  the  mere  weapon  of  poetic  elision.  He 
simply  omitted  the  obvious  link  by  a  license  ancient 
in  poetry  and  even  in  prose.  He  devised  in  his  har- 
monies the  paradox,  that  is  the  essence  of  art,  that 
the  necessary  step  somehow  becomes  unnecessary. 

*  As  the  lower  overtones,  discovered  by  a  later  science. 
clearly  confirm  the  tonal  system  of  the  major  scale,  slowly 
evolved  in  the  career  of  the  art, — so  the  upper  overtones 
are  said  to  justify  the  whole-tone  process.  At  best  this  is 
a  case  of  the  devil  quoting  scripture.  The  main  recurring 
overtones,  which  are  lower  and  audible,  are  all  in  support 
of  a  clear  prevailing  tonality. 
96 


DEBUSSY  AND  THE  INNOVATORS 

Though  Waguer  plunges  without  ceremony  into  his 
languorous  chords,  he  carefully  resolves  their  further 
course.  Debussy  has  them  tumbling  in  headlong 
descent  like  sportive  leviathans  in  his  sea  of  sound. 
Moreover  he  has  broken  these  fetters  of  a  small  punc- 
tilio without  losing  the  sense  of  a  true  harmonic 
sequence.  Nay,  by  the  very  riotous  revel  of  upper 
harmonies  he  has  stressed  the  more  clearly  the  path 
of  the  fundamental  tone.  When  lie  enters  the  higher 
sanctuary  of  pure  concerted  voices,  he  is  fully  aware 
of  the  fine  rigor  of  its  rites.  And  finally  his  mis- 
chievous abandon  never  leads  him  to  do  violence  to 
the  profoundest  element  of  the  art,  of  organic  design.* 

"THE  SEA."  THREE  SYMPHONIC  SKETCHES 
I. — From  Dawn  to  Noon  on  the  Sea.  In  awesome 
quiet  of  unsoothing  sounds  we  feel,  over  a  dual  ele- 
mental motion,  a  quick  fillip  as  of  sudden  lapping 
wave,  while  a  shadowy  air  rises  slowly  in  hollow  inter- 
vals. Midst  trembling  whispers  descending  (like  the 

*  In  the  drama  Debussy  avoids  the  question  of  form 
by  treating  the  music  as  mere  scenic  background.  Wagner, 
in  his  later  works,  attempted  the  impossible  of  combining 
a  tonal  with  the  dramatic  plot.  In  both  composers,  to 
carry  on  the  comparison  beyond  the  technical  phase,  is  a 
certain  reaching  for  the  primeval,  in  feeling  as  in  tonality. 
Here  they  are  part  of  a  larger  movement  of  their  age. 
The  subjects  of  their  dramas  are  chosen  from  the  same 
period  of  mediaeval  legend,  strongly  surcharged  in  both  com- 
posers with  a  spirit  of  fatalism  where  tragedy  and  love  are 
indissolubly  blended. 

7  97 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

soughing  wind),  a  strange  note,  as  of  distant  trum- 
pet, strikes  in  gentle  insistence — out  of  the  other 
rhythm — and  blows  a  wailing  phrase.  The  trembling 
whisper  has  sunk  to  lowest  depths.  Still  continues 
the  lapping  of  waves — all  sounds  of  unhuman  nature. 

(Muted  trumpet,  with  Eng.  horns  in  lower  8ve.) 
Very  slowly 


(Cellos  with  basses  in  lower  8ve.) 


On  quicker  spur  the  shadowy  motive  flits  faster 
here  and  there  in  a  slow  swelling  din  of  whispering, 
to  the  insistent  plash  of  wave.  Suddenly  the  sense  of 
desolation  yields  to  soothing  play  of  waters — a  ber- 
ceuse of  the  sea — and  now  a  song  sings  softly  (in 
horn),  though  strangely  jarring  on  the  murmuring 
lullaby.  The  soothing  cheer  is  anon  broken  by  a  shift 
of  new  tone.  There  is  a  fluctuation  of  pleasant  and 
98 


DEBUSSY  AND  THE  INNOVATORS 

.strange  sounds;  a  dulcet  air  on  rapturous  harmony 
is  hushed  by  unfriendly  plash  of  chord. 

Back  again  in  the  quieter  play  of  rhythm  the 
strange,  sweet  song  (of  horns)  returns. 

In  a  ravishing  climax  of  gentle  chorus  of  quick 
plashing  waves  and  swirling  breeze  the  song  sings 
on  and  the  trumpet  blows  its  line  of  tune  to  a  ringing 
phrase  of  the  clarinet. 


(Strings  and  horns) 
-/  ad  lib.  faster  ' 


When  this  has  died  down,  the  lapping  waves,  as  in 
concert,  strike  in  full  chord  that  spreads  a  hue  of 
warmth,  as  of  the  first  peep  of  sun.  It  is  indeed  as 
though  the  waves  rose  towards  the  sun  with  a  glow 
of  welcome. 

In  the  wake  of  the  first  stirring  shock  is  a  host  of 
soft  cheering  sounds  of  bustling  day,  like  a  choir 
of  birds  or  bells.  The  eager  madrigal  leads  to  a  final 
blast  (with  acclaiming  chorus  of  big  rocking  waves), 
echoed  in  golden  notes  of  the  horns.  One  slight  touch 
has  heightened  the  hue  to  warmest  cheer;  but  once 
do  we  feel  the  full  glow  of  risen  sun. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  chilling  shadows  return,  as  the  wistful  air  of 
hushed  trumpet  sounds  again.  We  hover  between 
flashes  of  warming  sun,  .until  the  waves  have  abated ; 
in  soothing  stillness  the  romantic  horn  *  sings  a 
lay  of  legend. 

Now  to  friendly  purling  of  playful  wavelets,  the 
sea  moves  in  shifting  harmonies.  In  sudden  climax 
the  motion  of  the  waves  fills  all  the  brass  in  triumph- 
ant paean,  in  the  gleam  of  high  noon. 

//. — Play  of  the  Waves.  There  is  a  poetic  back- 
ground as  for  the  play  of  legend.  We  seem  to  be 
watching  the  sea  from  a  window  in  the  castle  of 
Pelleas.  For  there  is  a  touch  of  dim  romance  in  a 
phrase  of  the  clarinet. 

The  moTement  of  waves  is  clear,  and  the  uncon- 
scious concert  of  sea-sounds,  the  deeper  pulse  of  ocean 
(in  the  horns),  the  flowing  ripples,  the  sharp  dash 
of  lighter  surf  (in  the  Glockenspiel),  all  with  a 
constant  tremor,  an  instability  of  element  (in  trem- 
bling strings).  We  cannot  help  feeling  the  illusion 
of  scene  in  the  impersonal  play  of  natural  sounds. 
Anon  will  come  a  shock  of  exquisite  sweetness  that 
must  have  something  of  human.  And  then  follows  a 
resonant  clash  with  spray  of  colliding  seas. 

Here  the  story  of  the  waves  begins,  and  there  are 
clearly  two  roles. 

To  light  lapping  and  cradling  of  waters  the  wood 
Bings  the  simple  lay,  while  strings  discourse  in  quicker, 

*  English  horn. 

100 


DEBUSSY  AND  THE  INNOVATORS 

higher  phrase.     The  parts  are  reversed.     A  shower 
of  chilling  wave  (in  gliding  harps)  breaks  the  thread. 


(Highest  and  lowest  figure  in  strings. 
Middle  voices  in  octaves  of  wood) 

Now  golden   tones    (of    horns)    sound    a   mystic 
tale  of  one  of  the  former  figures.     The  scene  shim- 

(With  rhythmic  harps  and  strings) 
(Flutes) 


(Horns) 


mers  in  sparkling,  glinting  waters   (with  harp  and 
trilling  wood  and  strings).    But  against  the  soothing 


101 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

background  the  story  (of  English  horn)  has  a  chill, 
ominous  strain. 

With  the  returning  main  song  comes  the  passionate 
crisis,  and  we  are  back  in  the  mere  plash  and  play  of 
impersonal  waves. 

On  dancing  ripples,  a  nixie  is  laughing  to  echoing 
horns  and  lures  us  back  to  the  story. 


(Strings  with  lower  8ve.) 


Later,  it  seems,  two  mermaids  sing  in  twining 
duet.  In  a  warm  hue  of  light  the  horns  sound  a 
weird  tale.  It  is  taken  up  by  teasing  chorus  of 
lighter  voices.  In  the  growing  volume  sounds  a 
dear,  almost  martial  call  of  the  brass. 

In  a  new  shade  of  scene  we  recover  the  lost  burden 
of  song;  the  original  figures  appear  (in  the  slower  air 
of  trembling  strings  and  the  quicker  play  of  reed, 
harp  and  bells),  and  wander  through  ever  new, 
moving  phases.  A  shower  of  chords  (in  strings  and 
shaking  brass)  brings  back  the  ominous  melod}', 
amidst  a  chorus  of  light  chatter,  but  firmly  resting 
102 


DEBUSSY  AND  THE  INNOVATORS 

on  a  warm  background  of  harmony.  And  the  strain 
roves  on  generous  path  and  rises  out  of  all  its  gloom 
to  a  burst  of  profound  cheer. 

(1st  violins  with  lower  8ve.) 


ffl  "         J  4— id- 


(2d  violins;  percussion 
with  cellos  below) 


N.  ^3  ^^^        ^^>^ 


(Harps  with  violas) 
(Flutes  with  higher  8ve.) 


(See  page  104,  line  11.) 

As  in  all  fair}-  tales,  the  scene  quickly  vanishes.  On 
dancing  rays  and  ripples  is  the  laughing  nixie;  but 
suddenly  breaks  the  first  song  of  the  main  figures. 
A  climactic  phrase  of  trumpets  ends  with  a  burst  of 
all  the  chorus  on  stirring  harmony,  where  in  dimin- 
ishing strokes  of  bells  long  rings  the  melodic  note. 
103 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

The  teasing  motive  of  the  nixie  returns  while  the 
trumpet  sounds  a  shadowy  echo  of  its  phrase,  again, 
to  dying  peal  of  bells.  A  chorus  of  eerie  voices  sing 
the  mocking  air,  and  again  sounds  the  refrain  of 
trumpet  as  in  rebuke.  On  a  tumult  of  teasing  cries 
flashes  a  delivering  burst  of  brilliant  light,  and  we 
are  back  in  the  first  scene  of  the  story.  Only  the 
main  figure  is  absent.  And  there  is  in  the  eager 
tension  of  pace  a  quivering  between  joy  and  doubt- 
Then,  in  answer  to  the  lighter  phrase  of  the  other,  is 
the  returning  figure  with  a  new  song  now  of  blended 
longing  and  content  that  soars  into  higher  flights 
until  a  mighty  chorus  repeats  the  strain  that  rises  to 
triumphant  height  of  joy  and  transforms  the  mock- 
ing motive  to  the  same  mood. 

But  it  is  all  a  play  of  the  waves.  And  we  are  left 
once  more  to  the  impersonal  scene  where  }ret  the 
fragrance  of  legend  hovers  over  the  dying  harmonies. 

///. — Dialogue  of  the  Wind  and  the  Sea.  Tu- 
multuous is  the  humor  of  the  beginning;  early  sounds 
the  stroke  of  wave  of  the  first  hour  of  the  sea.  The 
muted  trumpet  blows  a  strain  (to  trembling  strings) 
that  takes  us  back  to  the  first  (quoted)  tune  of  the 
symphony  in  the  wistful  mood  of  dawn.  For  a 
symphony  it  proves  to  be  in  the  unity  of  themes  and 
thought.  Xow  uumuted  and  unrestrained  in  con- 
flict of  crashing  chords,  the  trumpet  blows  again  the 
motto  of  the  roving  sea.  In  various  figures  is  tha 
104 


DEBUSSY  AND  THE  INNOVATORS 

pelagic  motion,  in  continuous  coursing  strings,  in  the 
sweeping  phrase  of  the  "wood-wind,  or  in  the  original 
wave-motion  of  the  horns,  now  unmuted. 
The  main  burden  is  a  plaint 

(Woodwind  in  lower  octaves 
and  touches  of  horns) 
(Animato)  poco  rit. 


^: \^—      I   ^^^~=£^ 


(Strings  in  higher  and  lower  octaves) 

(in  the  wood)  against  the  insistent  surge  (of 
strings),  on  a  haunting  motive  as  of  farewell  or  even- 
tide, with  much  stress  of  pathos.  It  is  sung  in  sus- 
tained duet  against  a  constant  churning  figure  of 
the  sea,  and  it  is  varied  by  a  dulcet  strain  that  grows 
out  of  the  wave-motive. 

Indeed,  the  whole  movement  is  complementary  of 
the  first,  the  obverse  as  it  were.  The  themes  are  of 
the  same  text;  the  hue  and  mood  have  changed  from 
the  spring  of  dawn  to  the  sadness  of  dusk.  The  sym- 
bol of  noontide  peace  reappears  with  minor  tinge, 
at  the  hush  of  eve.  The  climactic  motive  of  the  sea 
acclaiming  the  rising  sun  is  there,  but  reversed. 

The  sea  too  has  the  same  tempestuous  motion  (in« 
105 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

deed,  the  plaintive  song  is  mainly  of  the  wind),  unre- 
strained by  the  sadder  mood.  At  the  passionate 
climax,  where  the  higher  figure  sinks  toward  the  ris- 
ing lower,  it  is  as  if  the  Wind  kissed  the  Sea. 

The  concluding  scene  begins  as  in  the  first  move- 
ment, save  with  greater  extension  of  expressive  mel- 
ody. And  the  poignant  note  has  a  long  song  against 
a  continuous  rippling  (of  harps). 

More  elemental  figures  crowd  the  scene;  the  first 
melody  (of  trumpet)  has  a  full  verse,  and  the  dulcet 
phrase  (of  wave-motive). 

Toward  the  end  the  plaintive  song  has  an  ever- 
growing chorus  of  acclaiming  voices.  In  the  fever 
of  united  coursing  motion  the  phrase  loses  the  touch 
of  sadness  until  in  eager,  spirited  pace,  as  of  gallop- 
ing steeds,  it  ends  with  a  shout  of  victory. 

DUKA8.     "THE  SORCERER'S  APPRENTICE" 

Chief  among  the  companions  of  Claude  Debussy 
in  his  adventures  is  Paul  Dukas.*  Though  he  lags 
somewhat  in  bold  flights  of  harmonies,  he  shows 
a  clearer  vein  of  melody  and  rhythm,  arid  he  has 
an  advantage  in  a  greater  freedom  from  the  rut  of 
repeated  device. 

It  is  somehow  in  the  smaller  forms  that  the  French 
composer  finds  the  trenchant  utterance  of  his  fancy. 
A  Scherzo,  after  the  ballad  of  Goethe,  "The  Sor- 
cerer's Apprentice,"  tells  the  famous  story  of  the 
boy  who  in  his  master's  absence  compels  the  spirit  in 

*  Born  in  1865. 

106 


DEBUSSY  AND  THE  INNOVATORS 

the  broom  to  fetch  the  water;  but  he  cannot  say  the 
magic  word  to  stop  the  flood,  although  he  cleaves  the 
demon-broom  in  two. 

After  the  title-page  of  the  score  is  printed  a  prose 
version  (by  Henri  Blaze)  of  Goethe's  ballad,  "  Der 
Zauberlehrling." 

Of  several  translations  the  following,  by  Bowring, 
seems  the  best : 

THE    SORCERER'S    APPRENTICE 

I  am  now, — what  joy  to  hear  it!  — 

Of  the  old  magician  rid: 
And  henceforth  shall  ev'ry  spirit 
Do  whate'er  by  me  is  bid: 
I  have  watch'd  with  rigor 

All  he  used  to  do, 
And  will  now  with  vigor 
Work   my  wonders,   too. 

Wander,  wander 

Onward  lightly, 

So  that  rightly 

Flow  the  torrent, 
And  with  teeming  waters  yonder 
In  the  bath  discharge  its  current! 

And  now  come,  thou  well-worn  broom, 

And  thy  wretched  form   bestir; 
Thou  hast  ever  served  as  groom, 
So  fulfil  my  pleasure,  sir! 
On  two  legs  now  stand 
With  a  head  on  top; 
Water  pail  in  hand, 

Haste  and  do  not  stop! 
107 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Wander,  wander 

Onward  lightly, 

So  that  rightly 

Flow  the  torrent, 
And  with  teeming  waters  yonder 
In  the  bath  discharge  its  current! 

See!  he's  running  to  the  shore, 

And  has  now  attain'd  the  pool, 
And  with  lightning  speed  once  more 
Comes  here,  with  his  bucket  full ! 
Back  he  then  repairs; 

See  how  swells  the  tide! 
How  each  pail  he  bears 
Straightway  is  supplied! 

Stop,  for  lo! 

All  the  measure 

Of  thy  treasure 

Now  is  right! 
Ah,  I  see  it!  woe,  oh,  woe! 
I  forget  the  word  of  might. 

Ah,  the  word  whose  sound  can  straight 

Make  him  what  he  was  before! 
Ah,  he  runs  with  nimble  gait! 

Would  thou  wert  a  broom  once  more! 
Streams   renew'd  forever 

Quickly  bringeth  he; 
River  after  river 

Rusheth  on  poor  me! 

Now  no  longer 

Can  I  bear  him, 

I  will  snare  him, 

Knavish  sprite! 

Ah,   my   terror   waxes   stronger! 
What  a  look!  what  fearful  sight! 
108 


DEBUSSY  AND  THE  INNOVATORS 

Oh,  thou  villain  child  of  hell! 

Shall  the  house  through  thee  be  drown'd? 
Floods  I  see  that  widely  swell, 

O'er  the  threshold  gaining  ground. 
Wilt  thou  not  obey, 

O  thou  broom  accurs'd! 
Be  thou  still,  I  pray, 
As  thou  wert  at  first! 

Will  enough 

Never  please  thee? 

I  will  seize  thee, 

Hold  thee  fast, 

And  thy  nimble  wood  so  tough 
With  my  sharp  axe  split  at  last. 

See,  once  more  he  hastens  back ! 

Now,  O  Cobold,  thou  shalt  catch  it! 
I  will  rush  upon  his  track; 

Crashing  on  him  falls  my  hatchet. 
Bravely  done,  indeed! 

See,  he's  cleft  in  twain! 

Now  from  care  I'm  freed, 

And  can  breathe  again. 

Woe   oh,  woe! 

Both  the  parts, 

Quick  as  darts, 

Stand  on  end, 

Servants  of  my  dreaded  foe! 
O  ye  gods,  protection  send! 

And  they  run!  and  wetter  still 
Grow  the  steps  and  grows  the  hall. 
Lord  and  master,  hear  me  call! 

Ever  seems  the  flood  to  fill. 
109 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Ah,  he's  coming!  see, 

Great  is  my  dismay! 
Spirits  raised  by    me 

Vainly  would  I  lay! 

"  To  the  side 

Of  the  room 

Hasten,  broom, 

As  of  old! 

Spirits  I  have  ne'er  untied 
Save  to  act  as  they  are  told." 

In  paragraphs  are  clearly  pointed  the  episodes :  the 
boy's  delight  at  finding  himself  alone  to  conjure  the 
spirits;  the  invocation  to  the  water,  recurring  later 
as  refrain  (which  in  the  French  is  not  addressed  to 
the  spirit) ;  then  the  insistent  summons  of  the  spirit 
in  the  broom ;  the  latter^s  obedient  course  to  the  river 
and  his  oft-repeated  fetching  of  the  water;  the  boy's 
call  to  him  to  stop, — he  has  forgotten  the  formula; 
his  terror  over  the  impending  flood;  he  threatens  in 
his  anguish  to  destroy  the  broom ;  he  calls  once  more 
to  stop;  the  repeated  threat;  he  cleaves  the  spirit  in 
two  and  rejoices;  he  despairs  as  two  spirits  are 
now  adding  to  the  flood;  he  invokes  the  master  who 
returns ;  the  master  dismisses  the  broom  to  the  corner. 

There  is  the  touch  of  magic  in  the  first  harmonics 
of  strings,  and  the  sense  of  sorcery  is  always  sustained 
in  the  strange  harmonies.* 

*  The  flageolet  tones  of  the  strings  seem  wonderfully 
designed  in  their  ghostly  sound  for  such  an  aerial  touch. 
Dukas  uses  them  later  in  divided  violins,  violas  and  cellos, 
having  thus  a  triad  of  harmonics  doubled  in  the  octave. 

The  remaining  instruments  are:  Piccolo,  2  flutes,  2  oboes, 
110 


DEBUSSY  AND  THE  INNOVATORS 

After  a  mystic  descent  of  eerie  chords,  a  melodious 
cooing  phrase  begins  in  higher  wood,  echoed  from 
one  voice  to  the  other,  while  the  spirit-notes  are  still 
sounding. 

Suddenly  dashes  a  stream  of  descending  spray,  met 
by  another  ascending;  in  the  midst  the  first  phrase 
is  rapidly  sounded  (in  muted  trumpet).  As  sud- 
denly the  first  solemn  moment  has  returned,  the 
phrase  has  grown  in  melody,  while  uncanny  harmon- 
ies prevail.  Amidst  a  new  feverish  rush  a  call  rings 

(Wood  andpizz.  strings) 
con  8ve 

Vivace 


loud  and  oft  (in  trumpets  and  horns)  ending  in  an 
insistent,  furious  summons.  The  silence  that  en- 
sues is  as  speaking  (or  in  its  way  as  deafening)  as 
were  the  calls. 

After  what  seems  like  the  grating  of  ancient  joints, 
set  in  reluctant  motion,  the  whole  tune  of  the  first 
wooing  phrase  moves  in  steady  gait,  in  comic  bas- 
soons, to  the  tripping  of  strings,  further  and  fuller 
extended  as  other  voices  join.  The  beginning  phrase 

2  clarinets,  bass-clarinet,  3  bassoons,  contra-bassoon  (or 
contra-bass  sarrusophon)  ;  4  horns,  2  trumpets  (often 
muted);  2  cornets-a-pistons;  3  trombones;  3  kettle-dr 
harp;  glockenspiel;  big  drum,  cymbals  and  triangle. 
Ill 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

of  chords  recurs  as  answer.  Ever  the  lumbering  trip 
continues,  with  strange  turn  of  harmony  and  color, 
followed  ever  by  the  weird  answer.  A  fuller  appari- 
tion comes  with  the  loud,  though  muffled  tones  of 
the  trumpets.  The  original  tune  grows  in  new  turns 
and  folds  of  melody,  daintily  tipped  with  the  ring  of 
bells  over  the  light  tones  of  the  wood.  The  brilliant 

Vivace 


^^^p^g^l 

in*         *  :Jt        *        i         f 


(Acc't  in  pizz.  strings) 

harp  completes  the  chorus  of  hurrying  voices.  Now 
with  full  power  and  swing  the  main  notes  ring  in 
sturdy  brass,  while  all  around  is  a  rushing  and  swirl- 
ing (of  harps  and  bells  and  wood  and  strings).  And 
still  more  furious  grows  the  flight,  led  by  the  unison 
violins. 

A  mischievous  mood  of  impish  frolic  gives  a  new 
turn  of  saucy  gait.  In  the  jovial  answer,  chorussed 
in  simple  song,  seems  a  revel  of  all  the  spirits  of 
rivers  and  streams. 

At  the  top  of  a  big  extended  period  the  trumpet 
sends  a  shrill  defiant  blast. 

But  it  is  not  merely  in  power  and  speed, — more 
in  an  infinite  variety  of  color,  and  whim  of  tune  and 
112 


DEBUSSY  AND  THE  INNOVATORS 

rhythmic  harmony,  that  is  expressed  the  full  gamut 
of  disporting  spirits.  Later,  at  fastest  speed  of  trip- 
ping harp  and  wood,  the  brass  ring  out  that  first, 
insistent  summons,  beneath  the  same  eerie  harmonies 
— and  the  uncanny  descending  chords  answer  as 
before.  But  alas!  the  summons  will  not  work  the 
other  way.  Despite  the  forbidding  command  and  all 
the  other  exorcising  the  race  goes  madly  on. 

And  now,  if  we  are  intent  on  the  story,  we  may  see 
the  rising  rage  of  the  apprentice  and  at  last  the  fatal 
stroke  that  seemingly  hems  and  almost  quells  the 
flood.  But  ,not  quite !  Slowly  (as  at  first)  the 
hinges  start  in  motion.  And  now,  new  horror! 
Where  there  was  one,  there  are  now  two  ghostly  fig- 
ures scurrying  to  redoubled  disaster.  Again  and 
again  the  stern  call  rings  out,  answered  by  the  wildest 
tumult  of  all.  The  shouts  for  the  master's  aid 'seem 
to  turn  to  shrieks  of  despair.  At  last  a  mighty  call 
o'ermasters  and  stills  the  storm.  Nothing  is  heard 
but  the  first  fitful  phrases;  now  they  seem  mere 
echoes,  instead  of  forewarnings.  We  cannot  fail  to 
see  the  fine  parallel,  how  the  masterful  command  is 
effective  as  was  the  similar  call  at  the  beginning. 

Significantly  brief  is  the  ending,  at  once  .of  the 
story  and  of  the  music.  In  the  brevity  lies  the  point 
of  the  plot:  in  the  curt  dismissal  of  the  humbled 
spirit,  at  the  height  of  his  revel,  to  his  place  as 
broom  in  the  corner.  Wistful  almost  is  the  slow 
vanishing  until  the  last  chords  come  like  the  breaking 
of  a  fairy  trance. 

8  113 


CHAPTER   X 

TSCHAIKOWSKY 

THE  Byron  of  music  is  Tschaikowsky  for  a  certain 
alluring  melancholy  and  an  almost  uncanny 
flow  and  sparkle.  His  own  personal  vein  deepened 
the  morbid  tinge  of  his  national  humor. 

We  cannot  ignore  the  inheritance  from  Liszt,  both 
spiritual  and  musical.  More  and  more  does  the  Hun- 
garian loom  up  as<  an  overmastering  influence  of  his 
own  and  a  succeeding  age.  It  seems  as  if  Liszt,  not 
Wagner,  was  the  musical  prophet  who  struck  the  rock 
of  modern  pessimism,  from  which  flowed  a  stream  of 
ravishing  art.  The  national  current  in  Tschaikow- 
sky's  music  was  less  potent  than  with  his  younger 
compatriots;  or  at  least  it  lay  farther  beneath  the 
surface. 

For  nationalism  in  music  has  two  very  different 
bearings.  The  concrete  elements  of  folk-song, 
rhythm  and  scale,  as  they  are  more  apparent,  are  far 
less  important.  The  true  significance  lies  in  the 
motive  of  an  unexpressed  national  idea  that  presses 
irresistibly  towards  fulfilment.  Here  is  the  main 
secret  of  the  Russian  achievement  in  modern  music, — 
as  of  other  nations  like  the  Finnish.  It  is  the  cause 
that  counts.  Though  Russian  song  has  less  striking 
114 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 

traits  than  Hungarian  or  Spanish,  it  has  blossomed 
in  a  far  richer  harvest  of  noble  works  of  art. 

Facile,  fluent,  full  of  color,  Tschaikowsky  seems 
equipped  less  for  subjective  than  for  lyric  and  dra- 
matic utterance,  as  in  his  "  Romeo  and  Juliet "  over- 
ture. In  the  "  Manfred  "  Symphony  we  may  see  the 
most  fitting  employment  of  his  talent.  Nor  is  it 
unlikely  that  the  special  correspondence  of  treatment 
and  subject  may  cause  this  symphony  to  survive  the 
others,  may  leave  it  long  a  rival  of  Schumann's 
"  Manfred  "  music. 

With  Tschaikowsky  feeling  is  always  highly 
stressed,  never  in  a  certain  natural  poise.  He  quite 
lacks  the  noble  restraint  of  the  masters  who,  in  their 
symphonic  lyrics,  wonderfully  suggest  the  still  waters 
tkat  run  deep. 

Feeling  with  Tschaikowsky  was  frenzy,  violent  pas- 
sion, so  that  with  all  abandon  there  is  a  touch  of 
the  mechanical  in  his  method.  Emotion  as  the  con- 
tent of  highest  art  must  be  of  greater  depth  and  more 
quiet  flow.  And  it  is  part  or  a  counterpart  of  an 
hysterical  manner  that  it  reacts  to  a  cold  and  im- 
passive mood, — such  as  we  feel  in  the  Andante  of  the 
Fourth  Symphony. 

The  final  quality  for  symphonic  art  is,  after  all, 
less  the  chance  flash  of  inspiration  than  a  big  view, 
a  broad  sympathy,  a  deep  well  of  feeling  that  comes 
only  with  great  character. 

Nay,  there  is  a  kind  of  peril  in  the  symphony  for 
the  poet  of  uncertain  balance  from  the  betrayal  of  his 
115 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

own  temper  despite  his  formal  plan.  Through  all  the 
triumph  of  a  climax  as  in  the  first  movement  of  the 
Fourth  Symphony,  we  may  feel  a  subliminal  sadness 
that  proves  how  subtle  is  the  expression  in  music  of 
the  subjective  mood.  There  is  revealed  not  the  feel- 
ing the  poet  is  conscious  of,  but,  below  this,  his  pres- 
ent self,  and  in  the  whole  series  of  his  works,  his  own 
personal  mettle.  What  the  poet  tries  to  say  is  very 
different  from  what  he  does  say.  In  a  symphony,  as 
in  many  a  frolic,  the  tinge  of  latent  melancholy  will 
appear. 

SYMPHOXY  -vo.  4 

Reverting  to  a  great  and  fascinating  question  as  to 
the  content  of  art,  we  may  wonder  whether  this  is 
not  the  real  tragic  symphony  of  Tschaikowsky,  in  the 
true  heroic  sense,  in  a  view  where  the  highest  tragftdy 
is  not  measured  by  the  wildest  lament.  There  may 
be  a  stronger  sounding  of  lower  depths  with  a  firmer 
touch  (with  less  of  a  conscious  kind  of  abandon), — 
whence  the  recoil  to  serene  cheer  will  be  the  greater. 

There  is  surely  a  magnificent  aspiration  in  the 
first  Allegro,  a  profound  knell  of  destiny  and  a  rare 
ring  of  triumph.  Underlying  all  is  the  legend  of 
trumpets,  Andante  sostenuto  (%),  with  a  dim  touch 

Andante  gostenuto 

£ 


(Horns  and  bassoons  doubled  in  8va.) 
116 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 

of  tragedy.  Opposite  in  feeling  is  the  descending 
motive  of  strings,  Moderate  con  anima  (%).  First 
gently  expressive,  it  soon  rises  in  passion  (the  original 


Moderato  con  anima  (  \  —in  movimento  di  valse) 

~ 


(Strings  and  one  horn,  the  melody  doubled  below) 

motto  always  sounding)  to  a  climax  whence  an 
ascending  motive,  in  lowest  basses,  entering  in  man- 
ner of  fugue,  holds  a  significant  balance  with  the 
former.  Each  in  turn  rears  a  climax  for  the  other's 

,         (Horns  doubled  below) 

'Sf 


(Cellos  and  bassoons) 


entrance;  the  first,  lamenting,  leads  to  the  soothing 
hope  of  the  second  that,  in  the  very  passion  of  its 
refrain,  loses  assurance  and  ends  in  a  tragic  burst. 
Suddenly  a  very  new  kind  of  solace  appears  Dolce 
117 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

grazioso,  in  a  phrase  of  the  clarinet  that  leads  to  a 
duet  of  wood  and  cantabile  strings,  impersonal 
almost  in  the  sweetness  of  its  flowing  song. 

Moderate  assai 
(Oboe  doubled  in  flute 


In  such  an  episode  we  have  a  new  Tschaikowsky, — 
no  longer  the  subjective  poet,  but  the  painter  with  a 
certain  Oriental  luxuriance  and  grace.  It  is  interest- 
ing to  study  the  secret  of  this  effect.  The  preluding 
strain  lowers  the  tension  of  the  storm  of  feeling  and 
brings  us  to  the  attitude  of  the  mere  observer.  The 
"  movement  of  waltz  "  now  has  a  new  meaning,  as  of 
an  apparition  in  gently  gliding  dance.  The  step  is 
just  sustained  in  leisurely  strings.  Above  is  the  sim- 
ple melodic  trip  of  clarinet,  where  a  final  run  is 
echoed  throughout  the  voices  of  the  wood;  a  slower 
moving  strain  in  low  cellos  suggests  the  real  song 
that  presently  begins,  while  high  in  the  wood  the 
lighter  tune  continues.  The  ripples  still  keep  spread- 
ing throughout  the  voices,  at  the  end  of  a  line.  The 
tunes  then  change  places,  the  slower  singing  above. 

With  all  the  beauty,  there  is  the  sense  of  shadowy 
picture, — a  certain  complete  absence  of  passion.  Now 
the  lower  phrase  appears  in  two  companion  voices  (of 
118 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 

strings),  a  hymnal  kind  of  duet, — ben  sostenuto  il 
tempo  precedente.  Here,  very  softly  in  the  same 
timid  pace,  enters  a  chorus,  on  high,  of  the  old  sigh- 
ing motive.  Each  melody  breaks  upon  the  other  and 

(Strings) 
p  Bel  sostenuto  il  tempo  (moderate) 


(Woodwind  doubled  above) 


\pp  Kettle-drums) 

ceases,  with  equal  abruptness.  There  is  no  blending, 
in  the  constant  alternation,  until  the  earlier  (lament- 
ing) motive  conquers  and  rises  to  a  new  height  where 
a  culminating  chorale  sounds  a  big  triumph,  while  the 
sighing  phrase  merely  spurs  a  new  verse  of  assurance. 
(Strings  and  flutes) 


fff  (Doubled  above  and  below> 

A  completing  touch  lies  in  the  answering  phrase  of 
the  chorale,  where  the  answer  of  original  motto  is 
transformed  into  a  masterful  ring  of  cheer  and 
confidence. 

As  is  the  way  with  symphonies,  it  must  all  be  sung 

and  striven  over  again  to  make  doubly  sure.     Only 

there  is  never  the  same  depth  of  lament  after  the 

triumph.  In  a  later  verse  is  an  augmented  song  of  the 

119 


SY'MPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


answer  of  trumpet  legend,  in  duet  of  thirds,  in  .-low, 
serene  pace,  while  the  old  lament  sounds  below  in  tran- 
quil echoes  and  united  strains.  Before  the  end,  tunHn 
piu  vivace,  the  answer  rings  in  new  joyous  rhythm. 

Somewhat  the  reverse  of  the  first  movement,  in 
the  second  the  emotional  phase  grows  slowly  from  the 
nai've  melody  of  the  beginning.  Against  the  main 
melody  that  begins  in  oboe  solo  (with  pizzicato 
strings),  semplice  ma  grazioso,  plays  later  a  rising 

A  ndantino  in  modo  di  canzone 
(Clarinet  with  lower  8ve.) 


(Bassoons,  with  ;MZZ.  basses) 

counter-theme  that  may  recall  an  older  strain.     The 

second  melody,  in  Greek  mode,  still  does  not  depart 

(Strings,  wood  and  horns) 

&R 


120 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 

from  the  naive  mood,  or  lack  of  mood.  A  certain 
modern  trait  is  in  this  work,  when  the  feeling  vents 
and  wastes  itself  and  yields  to  an  impassive  recoil. 
more  coldly  impersonal  than  the  severest  classic. 

A  sigh  at  the  end  of  the  second  theme  is  a  first 
faint  reminder  of  the  original  lament.  Of  it  is  fash- 
ioned the  third  theme.  A  succeeding  climax  strongly 

Piu  mosso 
(Clarinet  doubled  below  in  bassoons) 


- 
i 


brings  back  the  subjective  hue  of  the  earlier  sym- 
phony. A  counter-theme,  of  the  text  of  the  second 
melody  of  Allegro,  —  now  one  above,  now  the  other  — 
is  a  final  stroke.  Even  the  shaking  of  the  trumpet 
figure  is  there  at  the  height,  in  all  the  brass.  Yet 
as  a  whole  the  first  melody  prevails,  with  abundant 
variation  of  runs  in  the  wood  against  the  song  of  the 
strings. 

The  Scherzo  seems  a  masterly  bit  of  humor,  impish, 

if  you  will,  yet  on  the  verge  always  of  tenderness. 

The  first  part  is  never-failing  in  the  flash  and  sparkle 

of  its  play,  all  in  pizzicato  strings,  with  a  wonderful 

121 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

'demonic  quality   of  the   mere   instrumental   effect 
Somewhat  suddenly  the  oboe  holds  a  long  note  and 

Pizzicato  oslinato 
Scherzo  Allegro 


(Pizzicato  scmpre) 

then,  with  the  bassoons,  has  a  tune  that  is  almost 
sentimental.    But  presently  the  clarinets  make  mock- 
( Oboes  and  bassoons) 


ing  retorts.  Here,  in  striking  scene,  all  the  brass 
(but  the  tuba)  very  softly  blow  the  first  melody  with 
eccentric  halts,  in  just  half  the  old  pace  except  when 
they  take  us  by  surprise.  The  clarinet  breaks  in 
with  the  sentimental  tune  in  faster  time  while  the 
brass  all  the  while  are  playing  as  before.  There  are 
all  kinds  of  pranks,  often  at  the  same  time.  The  pic- 
122 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 


colo,  in  highest  treble,  inverts  the  second  melody,  in 
impertinent  drollery.  The  brass  has  still  newer 
surprises.  Perhaps  the  best  of  the  fooling  is  where 
strings  below  and  m  woodwind  above  share  the  melody 
between  them,  each  taking  two  notes  at  a  time. 

The  first  of  the  Finale  is  pure  fanfare,  as  if  to 
let  loose  the  steeds  of  war;  still  it  recurs  as  leading 
idea.  There  is  a  kind  of  sonorous  terror,  increased 
by  the  insistent,  regular  notes  of  the  brass,  the 
spirited  pace  of  the  motive  of  strings, — the  barbaric 
ring  we  often  hear  in  Slav  music.  At  the  height 

Allegro  con  fuoco 
(Wood  doubled  above  and  below) 

(Violins) 


(Pizz.  strings) 

the  savage  yields  to  a  more  human  vein  of  joyousness, 
though  at  the  end  it  rushes  the  more  wildly  into  a 

n 


(Doubled  above  and  below) 
123 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

series  of  shrieks  of  trebles  with  tramping  of  bassos. 
The  real  battle  begins  almost  with  a  lull,  the  mere 
sound  of  the  second  tune  in  the  reeds  with  light 
strum  of  strings  and  triangle.  As  the  theme  is 
redoubled  (in  thirds  of  the  wood),  the  sweep  of 
strings  of  the  first  motive  is  added,  with  chords  of 
horns.  A  rising  figure  is  now  opposed  to  the  descent 
of  the  second  melody,  with  shaking  of  woodwind  that 
brings  back  the  old  trumpet  legend.  Here  the  storm 
grows  apace,  with  increasing  tumult  of  entering  hos- 
tile strains,  the  main  song  now  ringing  in  low  brass. 
In  various  versions  and  changes  we  seem  to  see 
earlier  themes  briefly  reappearing.  Indeed  there  is 
a  striking  kinship  of  themes  throughout,  not  so  much 
in  outline  as  in  the  air  and  mood  of  the  tunes.  This 
seems  to  be  proven  by  actual  outer  resemblance  when 
the  motives  are  developed.  Here  in  a  quiet  spot — 
though  the  battle  has  clearly  not  ceased — is  the 
answer  of  old  trumpet  motto,  that  pervaded  the  first 
Allegro.  There  is  a  strong  feeling  of  the  Scherzo 
here  in  the  pizzicato  answers  of  strings.  The  second 
theme  of  the  Andante  is  recalled,  too,  in  the  strokes 
of  the  second  of  the  Finale.  In  the  thick  of  the  fray 
is  a  wonderful  maze  of  versions  of  the  theme,  dimin- 
ished and  augmented  at  the  same  time  with  the  orig- 
inal pace.  Yet  it  is  all  a  clear  flow  of  melody  and  rich 
harmony.  The  frnir  beats  of  quarter  notes,  in  the 
lengthened  theme,  come  as  high  point  like  the  figure 
of  the  leader  in  battle.  A  later  play  of  changes  is 
like  the  sport  of  the  Scherzo.  This  insensibly  leads 
124 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 

to  the  figure  of  the  fanfare,  whence  the  earlier  song 
returns  with  the  great  joyous  march. 

The  final  height  of  climax  is  distinguished  by  a 
stentorian,  fugal  blast  of  the  theme  in  the  bass,  the 
higher  breaking  in  on  the  lower,  while  other  voices 
are  raging  on  the  quicker  phrases.  It  is  brought  to 
a  dramatic  halt  by  the  original  prelude  of  trumpet 
legend,  in  all  its  fulness.  Though  the  march-song 
recurs,  the  close  is  in  the  ruder  humor  of  the  main 
themes. 

THE  "M  Ay  FRED"  SYMPHONY 

Schumann  and  Tschaikowsky  are  the  two  most 
eminent  composers  who  gave  tonal  utterance  to  the 
sombre  romance  of  Byron's  dramatic  poem.*  It  is 
interesting  to  remember  that  Byron  expressly  de- 
manded the  assistance  of  music  for  the  work.  If  we 
wish  to  catch  the  exact  effect  that  is  sought  in  the 
original  conception,  Schumann's  setting  is  the  nearest 
approach.  It  is  still  debated  whether  a  scenic  repre- 
sentation is  more  impressive,  or  a  simple  reading, 
reinforced  by  the  music. 

Tschaikowsky's  setting  is  a  "  symphony  in  four 
pictures,  or  scenes  (en  quatre  tableaux),  after  Byron's 
dramatic  poem."  In  the  general  design  and  spirit 
there  is  "much  of  the  feeling  of  Berlioz's  "  Fantastic  " 
Symphony,  though  the  manner  of  the  music  shows 
no  resemblance  whatever.  There  is  much  more  like- 

*  Prefixed  are  the  familiar  lines: 

"  There  are  more  things   in  heaven  and  earth,  Horatio, 
Than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy." 
125 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

ness  to  Liszt's  "  Faust  "  Symphony,  in  that  the  per. 
vading  recurrence  of  themes  suggests  symbolic  labels. 
Moreover,  in  the  very  character  of  many  of  the 
motives,  there  is  here  a  striking  line  of  descent. 

Lento  lugubre,  the  first  scene  or  picture,  begins 
with  a  theme  in  basses  of  reeds: 


Lento  lugulre 
(Woodwind) 


E 


ff  (Strings) 

with  later  pizzicato  figure  of  low  strings. 

An  answering  strain  is  one  of  the  most  important 
of  all  the  melodies  : 


3EE 


»r^r 


1 — tt»   .   fM  uan^ n-o_  .    'I 

z=i 


On  these,  a  bold  conflict  and  climax  is  reared. 
If  we  care  to  indulge  in  the  bad  habit  of  calling 
names,  we  might  see  "  Proud  Ambition  "  in  the  first 
motives,  intertwined  with  sounds  of  sombre  discon- 
tent. The  pace  grows  animando, — piu  mosso;  mod- 
erato  molto.  Suddenly  Andante  sings  a  new,  e.t- 
126 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 

pressive  song,  with  a  dulcet  cheer  of  its  own,  rising 
to  passionate  periods  and  a  final  height  whence, 
Andante  con  duolo,  a  loudest  chorus  of  high  wood 
and  strings,  heralded  and  accompanied  by  martial 
tremolo  of  low  wood,  horns,  basses,  and  drums,  sound 
the  fateful  chant  that  concludes  the  first  scene,  and, 
toward  the  close  of  the  work,  sums  the  main  idea, 

J  M       (Strings  and  flutes) 


(Basses,  wood  and  horns) 


nrm-  ^» 


(Same  con- ' 
tinuing  rhythm) 

The  apparition  of  the  Witch  of  the  Alps  is  pic- 
tured in  daintiest,  sparkling  play  of  strings  and  wood, 
with  constant  recurrence  of  mobile  figures  above 
and  below.  It  seems  as  if  the  image  of  the  fountain 
is  fittest  and  most  tempting  for  mirroring  in  music. 
Perhaps  the  most  beautiful,  the  most  haunting,  of 
all  the  "  Manfred  "  music  of  Schumann  is  this  same 
scene  of  the  Witch  of  the  Alps. 

Here,  with  Tschaikowsky,  hardly  a  single  note  of 
brass  intrudes  on  this  perpetuum  mobile  of  light, 
plashing  spray  until,  later,  strains  that  hark  back 
to  the  first  scene  cloud  the  clear  brilliancy  of  the 
cascade.  Now  the  play  of  the  waters  is  lost  in  the 
new  vision,  and  a  limpid  song  glides  in  the  violins, 
with  big  rhythmic  chords  of  harps,  is  taken  up  in 
127 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

clarinets,  and  carried  on  by  violins  in  new  melodic 
verse,  con  tenerezza  e  molto  expressione.  Then  the 
whole  chorus  sing  the  tune  in  gentle  volume.  As  it 
dies  away,  the  music  of  the  falling  waters  plash  as 
before.  The  returning  song  has  phases  of  varying  sad- 
ness and  passion.  At  the  most  vehement  height, — and 
here,  if  we  choose,  we  may  see  the  stern  order  to 
retire, — the  fatal  chant  is  shrieked  by  full  chorus  in 
almost  unison  fierceness. 

Gradually  the  innocent  play  of  the  waters  is  heard 
again,  though  a  gloomy  pall  hangs  over.  The  chant 
sounds  once  more  before  the  end. 

The  third,  "  Pastoral/'  scene  we  are  most  free  to 
enjoy  in  its  pure  musical  beauty,  with  least  need  of 
definite  dramatic  correspondences.  It  seems  at  first 
as  if  no  notes  of  gloom  are  allowed  to  intrude,  as  if 
the  picture  of  happy  simplicity  stands  as  a  foil  to 
the  tragedy  of  the  solitary  dreamer;  for  an  early 
climax  gives  a  mere  sense  of  the  awe  of  Alpine 
nature. 

Still,  as  we  look  and  listen  closer,  we  cannot  escape 
so  easily,  in  spite  of  the  descriptive  title.  Indeed,  the 
whole  work  seems,  in  its  relation  to  the  poem  upon 
which  it  is  based,  a  very  elusive  play  in  a  double  kind 
of  symbolism.  At  first  it  is  all  a  clear  subjective 
utterance  of  the  hero's  woes  and  hopes  and  fears, 
without  definite  touches  of  external  things.  Yet, 
right  in  the  second  scene  the  torrent  is  clear  almost 
to  the  eye,  and  the  events  pass  before  us  with  sharp 
distinctness.  Tending,  then,  to  look  on  the  third  as 
128 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 

purest  pastoral,  we  are  struck  in  the  midst  by  a* 
ominous  strain  from  one  of  the  earliest  moments  of 
the  work,  the  answer  of  the  first  theme  of  all.  Here 
notes  of  horns  ring  a  monotone;  presently  a  church- 
bell  adds  a  higher  note.  The  peaceful  pastoral  airs 
then  return,  like  the  sun  after  a  fleeting  storm. 

The  whole  of  this  third  scene  of  Tschaikowsky's 
agrees  with  no  special  one  in  Byron's  poem,  unless 
Ave  go  back  to  the  second  of  the  first  act,  where  Man- 
fred, in  a  morning  hour,  alone  upon  the  cliffs,  views 
the  mountains  of  the  Jimgfrau  before  he  makes  a 
foiled  attempt  to  spring  into  the  abyss.  By  a  direc- 
tion of  the  poet,  in  the  midst  of  the  monologue,  "  the 
shepherd's  pipe  in  the  distance  is  heard/'  and 
Manfred  muses  on  "  the  natural  music  of  the  moun- 
tain reed." 

The  last  scene  of  the  music  begins  with  Byron's 
£ourth  of  Act  II  and  passes  over  all  the  incidents  of 
the  third  act  that  precede  the  hero's  death,  such  as 
the  two  interviews  with  the  Abbot  ajid  the  glorious 
invocation  to  the  sun. 

From  Tschaikowsky's  title,  we  must  look  for  the 
awful  gloom  of  the  cavernous  hall  of  Arimanes, 
Byron's  "Prince  of  Earth  and  Air."  The  gray 
figure  from  most  ancient  myth  is  not  less  real  to  us 
than  Mefistofeles  in  "Faust."  At  least  we  clearly 
feel  the  human  daring  that  feared  not  to  pry  into 
forbidden  mysteries  and  refused  the  solace  of  un- 
thinking faith.  And  it  becomes  again  a  question 
whether  the  composer  had  in  mind  this  subjective 
9  129 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

attitude  of  the  hero  or  the  actual  figures  and  abode 
of  the  spirits  and  their  king.  It  is  hard  to  escape 
the  latter  view,  from  the  general  tenor,  the  clear-cut 
outline  of  the  tunes,  of  which  the  principal  is  like 
a  stern  chant: 


The  most  important  of  the  later  answers  lies  largely 
in  th?  basses. 

(Low  wood)  >  u.    > 

(Rhythmic  chords  in  strings) 

There  is,  on  the  whole,  rather  an  effect  of  gloomy 
splendor  (the  external  view)  than  of  meditation;  a 
sense  of  visible  massing  than  of  passionate  crisis, 
though  there  is  not  wanting  a  stirring  motion  and 
life  in  the  picture.  This  is  to  speak  of  the  first  part, 
Allegro  con  fuoco. 

The  gloomy  dance  dies  away.  Lento  is  a  soft  fugal 
chant  on  elemental  theme ;  there  is  all  the  solemnity 
of  cathedral  service;  after  the  low-chanted  phrase 
130 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 

follows  a  tremendous  blare  of  the  brass.  The  re- 
peated chant  is  followed  by  one  of  the  earliest,  char- 
acteristic themes  of  the  first  scene.  And  so,  if  we 
care  to  follow  the  graphic  touch,  we  may  see  here  the 
intrusion  of  Manfred,  at  the  most  solemn  moment  of 
the  fearful  revel. 

As  Manfred,  in  Byron's  poem,  enters  undaunted, 
refusing  to  kneel,  the  first  of  the  earlier  phases  rings 
out  in  fierce  forti-ssimo.  A  further  conflict  appears 
later,  when  the  opening  theme  of  the  work  sounds 
with  interruptions  of  the  first  chant  of  the  spirits. 

A  dulcet  plaint  follows,  Adagio,  in  muted  strings, 
answered  by  a  note  of  horn  and  a  chord  of  harp. 

Adagio 
(Muted  Strings  answered  by  horn  and  harp) 


It  all  harks  back  to  the  gentler  strains  of  the  first 
movement.  In  the  ethereal  glissando  of  harps  we  see 
the  spirit  of  Astarte  rise  to  give  the  fatal  message. 
The  full  pathos  and  passion  of  the  lento  episode  of 
first  scene  is  heard  in  brief,  vivid  touches,  and  is 
followed  by  the  same  ominous  blast  with  ring  of  horn, 
as  in  the  first  picture. 

A  note  of  deliverance  shines  clear  in  the  final 
131 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

phrase  of  joined  orchestra  and  organ,  clearer  perhaps 
than  in  Manfred's  farewell  line  in  the  play :  "  Old 
man !  'tis  not  so  difficult  to  die."  To  be  sure,  Schu- 
mann spreads  the  same  solace  o'er  the  close  of  his 
setting,  with  the  Requiem.  The  sombre  splendor  of 
romance  is  throughout,  with  just  a  touch  of  turgid. 
In  the  poignant  ecstasy  of  grief  we  feel  vividly  the 
foreshadowing  example  of  Liszt,  in  his  "  Dante " 
and  "  Faust "  Symphonies. 

FIFTH  SYMPHONY    (E  MINOR) 

With  all  the  unfailing  flow  of  lesser  melodies  where 
the  charm  is  often  greatest  of  all,  and  the  main 
tileries  of  each  movement  with  a  chain. of  derived^ 
phrases,  one  melody  prevails  and  reappears  through- 
out. The  fluency  is  more  striking  here  than  else- 
where in  Tschaikowsky.  All  the  external  sources, — 
all  the  glory  of  material  art  seem  at  his  command. 
We  are  reminded  of  a  certain  great  temptation  to 
which  all  men  are  subject  and  some  fall, — however 
reluctantly.  Throughout  there  is  a  vein  of  daemonic. 
The  second  (Allegro)  melody  grows  to  a  high  point 
of  pathos, — nay,  anguish,  followed  later  by  buoyant, 
strepitant,  dancing  delight,  witli  the  melting  answer, 
in  the  latest  melody.  The  daemon  is  half  external 
fate — in  the  Greek  sense,  half  individual  'temper. 
The  end  is  almost  sullen;  but  the  charm  is  never 
failing;  at  the  last  is  the  ever  springing  rhythm. 
132 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 


Andante 

pesante  e  tenuto  sempre 


The  march  rhythm  of  the  opening  Andante  is  car- 
ried suddenly  into  a  qiiick  trip,  Allegro  con  anima 
(6/8),  where  the  main  theme  of  the  first  movement 
now  begins,  freely  extended  as  in  a  full  song  of 
verses.  N"ew  accompanying  figures  are  added,  con- 
trasting phrases  or  counter-melodies,  to  the  theme. 

Solo  clarinet  (doubled  be- 
jro  con  anima  low  with  solo  bassoon.) 


One  expressive  line  plays  against  the  wilder  rhythm 

of  the  theme,  with  as  full  a  song  in  its  own  mood 

as   the.  other.      A   new  rhythmic   motive,   of  great 

133 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

charm,  un  pocchetino  piu  animato,  is  answered  by 
a  bit  of  the  theme.     Out  of  it  all  grows,  in  a  clear 


•» —  ~  i     A,^-^ u j — r*     i+n~~r — 

S/jD  3/otto  6«pr.  /  P 


(Strings)  ==— 

welded  chain,  another  episode,  where  the  old  rhythm 
is  a  mere  gentle  spur  to  the  new  plaint, — molto  piu 
iranquillo,  molto  cantabile  ed  espressivo. 


Molto  piu  Iranquillo 
Molto  canlabile  ed  espr. 


,- 


To  be  sure,  the  climax  has  all  of  the  old  pace 
and  life,  and  every  voice  of  the  chorus  at  the  loudest. 
In  the  answering  and  echoing  of  the  various  phrases, 
rhythmic  and  melodic,  is  the  charm  of  the  discussion 
that  follows.  Later  the  three  melodies  come  again 
in  the  former  order,  and  the  big  climax  of  the  plain- 
134 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 

tive  episode  precedes  the  end,  where  the  main  theme 
dies  down  to  a  whisper. 

Andante  cantabile,  con  alcuna  licenza.     After  pre- 
luding chords  in  lowest  strings  a  solo  horn  begins  a 

(Andante  cantdbile,  con  alcuma  licenza) 
(Horn)> 


pp 

(Strings) 

languishing  song,  dolce  con  molto  espressione.  It 
is  a  wonderful  elegy,  a  yearning  without  hope,  a 
swan-song  of  desire,  sadder  almost  than  the  frank  de- 
spair of  the  Finale  of  the  Pathetique  symphony, — 
pulsing  with  passion,  gorgeous  with  a  hectic  glow 
of  expressive  beauty,  moving  too  with  a  noble  grace. 
Though  there  is  a  foil  of  lighter  humor,  this  is 
overwhelmed  in  the  fateful  gloom  of  the  returning 
main  motto. 

The  abounding  beauty  with  all  its  allurement 
lacks  the  solace  that  the  masters  have  led 
us  to  seek  in  the  heart  of  a  symphony.  The 
clarinet  presently  twines  a  phrase  about  the  tune 
until  a  new  answer  sounds  in  the  oboe,  that  now 
sings  in  answering  and  chasing  duet  with  the  horn. 
135 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


The  phrase  of  oboe  proves  to  be  the  main  song,  in 
full  extended  periods,  reaching  a  climax  with  all  tlie 
voices. 


1  A.!.!** 

nun 


Well  defined  is  the  middle  episode  In  minor  reared 
on  a  new  theme  of  the  clarinet  with  an  almost  fugal 
polyphony  that  departs  from  the  main  lyric  mood. 

Moderate  con  anima 
(Solookar.)  , 


(Strings) 

At  the  height  all  the  voices  fall  into  a  united  chorus 
on  the  original  motto  of  the  symphony.  The  first 
melodies  of  the  Andante  now  return  with  big  sweep 
and  power,  and  quicker  phrases  from  the  episode. 
The  motto  reappears  in  a  final  climax,  in  the  trom- 
bones, before  the  hushed  close. 
136 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 

We  must  not  infer  too  readily  a  racial  trait  from 
the  temper  of  the  individual  composer.  There  is  here 
an  error  that  we  fall  into  frequently  in  the  music 
of  such  men  as  C4rieg  and  Tschaikowsky.  The  pre- 
vailing mood  of  the  Pathetic  Symphony  is  in  large 
measure  personal.  Some  of  the  more  recent  Russian 
symphonies  are  charged  with  buoyant  joyousness. 
And,  indeed,  the  burden  of  sadness  clearly  distin- 
guishes the  last  symphony  of  Tschaikowsky  from  its 
two  predecessors,  the  Fourth  and  the  Fifth. 

The  tune  of  the  raise.  Allegro  moderato,  is  first 
played  by  the  violins,  dolce  con  grazia,  with  accom- 
panying strings,  horns  and  bassoon.  In  the  second 
part,  with  some  loss  of  the  lilt  of  dance,  is  a  subtle 
design — with  a  running  phrase  in  spiccato  strings 
against  a  slower  upward  glide  of  bassoons.  The  duet 
winds  on  a  kind  of  crescendo  of  modulations.  Later 

(Spiccato) 


(Strings)  j 


the  themes  are  inverted,  and  the  second  is  redoubled 

in  speed.     The  whole  merges  naturally  into  the  first 

waltz,  with  a  richer  suite  of  adorning  figures.     The 

187 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

dance  does  not  end  without  a  soft  reminder  (in  low 
woodwind)  of  the  original  sombre  phrase. 

Almost  for  the  first  time  a  waltz  has  entered  the 
shrine  of  the  symphony.  And  yet  perhaps  this  dance 
has  all  the  more  a  place  there.  It  came  on  impulse 
(the  way  to  visit  a  sanctuary),  not  by  ancient  cus- 
tom. But  with  all  its  fine  variety,  it  is  a  simple 
waltz  with  all  the  careless  grace,  —  nothing  more,  with 
no  hidden  or  graphic  meaning  (as  in  Berlioz's  Fan- 
tastic Symphony). 

The  middle  episode,  though  it  lacks  the  dancing 
trip,  is  in  the  one  continuing  mood,  —  like  a  dream  of 
youthful  joys  with  just  a  dimming  hint  of  grim 
reality  in  the  returning  motto. 

In  the  Finale  the  main  legend  of  the  symphony 
is  transformed  and  transfigured  in  a  new,  serener 
mood,  and  is  brought  to  a  full  melodic  bloom.  In- 
deed, here  is  the  idealization  of  the  original  motto. 
Andante  maestoso  it  begins  in  the  tonic  major.  When 
the  theme  ceases,  the  brass  blow  the  rhythm  on  a 
.monotone,  midst  an  ascending  obligate  of  strings. 


(Brass  and  lower  woodwind) 


(Seepage  139,  line  1.) 
138 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 

In  answer  comes  a  new  phrase  of  chorale.  Later  the 
chorale  is  sounded  by  the  full  band,  with  intermediate 
beats  of  rhythmic  march. 

Once  more  there  is  a  well-marked  episode,  with 
a  full  share  of  melodic  discussion,  of  clashing  themes, 
of  dramatic  struggle.  First  in  the  tonic  minor  a 
theme  rises  from  the  last  casual  cadence  in  resonant 
march,  Allegro  vivace.  Then  follows  a  duet,  almost 

Allegro  mwce 

(Strings  and  low  wood) 


(Trill  of  kettle-drums) 
a  harsh  grating  of  an  eccentric  figure  above  against 

(Solo  oboe) 


_ — *-*—  -tt—^^j       | 


(Low  wood) 


(Fizz,  cellos) 


the  smoother  course  of  the  latest  Allegro  motive. 
The  themes  are  inverted.  Presently  out  of  the  din 
rises  a  charming  canon  on  the  prevailing  smoother 
phrase,  that  soars  to  a  full  sweep  of  song.  A  new 
139 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


( Violins) 


(Basses  8va.)        (Low  strings)  — =rz 

hymnal  melody  comes  as  a  final  word.  Though  the 
main  motto  returns  in  big  chorus,  in  full  extension, 
in  redoubled  pace  and  wild  abandon,  still  the  latest 
melody  seems  to  contend  for  the  last  say.  Or,  rather, 

(Woodwind  doubled  above  and  below) 
mfetpr. | 


TSCHAIKOWSKY 

it  is  a  foil,  in  its  simple  flow,  to  the  revel  of  the 
motto,  now  grown  into  a  sonorous,  joyous  march. 
And  we  seem  to  see  how  most  of  the  other  melodies, 
— the  minor  episode,  the  expressive  duet — have 
sprung  from  bits  of  the  main  text. 

To  return  for  another  view, — the  Finale  begins  in 
a  mood  that  if  not  joyous,  is  religious.  Out  of 
the  cadence  of  the  hymn  dances  the  Allegro  tune 
almost  saucily.  Xor  has  this  charming  trip  the  ring 
of  gladness,  though  it  grows  to  great  momentum.  As 
a  whole  there  is  no  doubt  of  the  assurance,  after  the 
earlier  fitful  gloom,  and  with  the  resignation  an 
almost  militant  spirit  of  piety. 

In  the  dulcet  canon,  an  exquisite  gem,  bliss 
and  sadness  seem  intermingled;  and  then  follows 
the  crowning  song,  broad  of  pace,  blending  the 
smaller  rh}-thms  in  ecstatic  surmounting  of  gloom. 
In  further  verse  it  doubles  its  sweet  burden  in 
overlapping  voices,  while  far  below  still  moves  the 
rapid  trip. 

But  the  motto  will  return,  in  major  to  be  sure, 
and  tempered  in  mercy.  And  the  whole  hymn  dom- 
inates, with  mere  interludes  of  tripping  motion, 
breaking  at  the  height  into  double  pace  of  concluding 
strain.  Before  falling  back  into  the  thrall  of  the 
legend  the  furious  race  rushes  eagerly  into  the  deep- 
est .note  of  bliss,  where  in  sonorous  bass  rolls  the 
broad,  tranquil  song.  And  though  the  revel  must 
languish,  yet  we  attend  the  refrain  of  all  the  melodies 
in  crowning  rapture.  Then  at  last,  in  stern  minor, 
141 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

sounds  the  motto,  still  with  the  continuing  motion, 
in  a  loud  and  long  chant. 

In  blended  conclusion  of  the  contending  moods 
comes  a  final  verse  of  the  legend  in  major,  with 
full  accoutrement  of  sounds  and  lesser  rhythm,  in 
majestic  pace.  And  there  is  a  following  frolic  with 
a  verse  of  the  serene  song.  The  end  is  in  the  first 
Allegro  theme  of  the  symphony,  in  transfigured 
major  tone. 

We  must  be  clear  at  least  of  the  poet's  intent.  In 
the  Fifth  Symphony  Tschaikowsky  sang  a  brave  song 
of  struggle  with  Fate. 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  KEG-RUSSIANS 

FOR  some  mystic  reason  nowhere  in  modern  music 
is  the  symphony  so  justified  as  in  Russia.  Else- 
where it  survives  by  the  vitality  of  its  tradition.  In 
France  we  have  seen  a  series  of  works  distinguished 
rather  by  consummate  refinement  than  by  strength  of 
intrinsic  content.  In  Germany  since  the  master- 
pieces of  Brahms  we  glean  little  besides  the  learnedly 
facile  scores  of  a  Bruckner,  with  a  maximum  of  work- 
manship and  a  minimum  of  sturdy  feeling, — or  a 
group  of  "  heroic  "  symphonies  all  cast  in  the  same 
plot  of  final  transfiguration.  The  one  hopeful  sign 
is  the  revival  of  a  true  counterpoint  in  the  works 
of  Mahler. 

Some  national  song,  like  the  Bohemian,  lends 
itself  awkwardly  to  the  larger  forms.  The  native 
vein  is  inadequate  to  the  outer  mould,  that  shrinks 
and  dwindles  into  formal  utterance.  It  may  be  a 
question  of  the  quantity  of  a  racial  message  and  of 
its  intensity  after  long  suppression.  Here,  if  we 
cared  to  enlarge  in  a  political  disquisition,  we  might 
account  for  the  symphony  of  Russians  and  Finns,  and 
of  its  absence  in  Scandinavia.  The  material  elements, 
abundant  rhythm,  rich  color,  individual  and  varied 
folk-song,  are  only  the  means  by  which  the  national 
143 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

temper  is  expressed.  Secondly,  it  must  be  noted  as 
a  kind  of  paradox,  the  power  of  the  symphony  as 
;i  national  utterance  is  increased  by  a  mastery  of  the 
earlier  classics.  With  all  that  we  hear  of  the  narrow 
nationalism  of  the  Xeo-Russians,  we  cannot  deny 
them  the  breadth  that  comes  from  a  close  touch  with 
the  masters.  Mozart  is  an  element  in  their  music 
almost  as  strong  as  their  own  folk-song.  Here,  it 
may  he,  the  bigger  burden  of  a  greater  national  mes- 
sage unconsciously  seeks  the  larger  means  of  expres- 
sion. And  it  becomes  clear  that  the  sharper  and  nar- 
rower the  national  school,  the  less  complete  is  its 
utterance,  the  more  it  defeats  its  ultimate  purpose. 

The  broad  equipment  of  the  new  Russian  group  is 
seen  at  the  outset  in  the  works  of  its  founder,  Balaki- 
rew.  And  thus  the  difference  between  them  and 
Tschaikowsky  lay  mainly  in  the  formulated  aim.* 

The  national  idea,  so  eminent  in  modern  music,  is 
not  everywhere  equally  justified.  And  here,  as  iji  an 
object-lesson,  we  see  the  true  merits  of  the  problem. 
While  one  nation  spontaneously  utters  its  cry.  an- 
other, like  a  cock  on  the  barnyard,  starts  a  move- 
ment in  mere  idle  vanity,  in  sheer  self-glorification. 

In  itself  there  is  nothing  divine  in  a  national  idea 
that  needs  to  be  enshrined  in  art.  Deliberate  segre- 

*  In  the  choice  of  subjects  there  was  a  like  breadth. 
Halakirew  was  inspired  by  "  King  Lear,''  as  was  Tschaikow- 
eky.  And  amid  a  wealth  of  Slavic  legend  and  of  kindred 
Oriental  lore,  he  would  turn  to  the  rhythms  of  distant 
Spain  for  a  i>octic  theme. 

144 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 

gallon  is  equally  vain,  whether  it  be  national  or  social. 
A  true  racial  celebration  must  above  all  be  spon- 
taneous. Even  then  it  can  have  no  sanction  in  art, 
unless  it  utter  a  primal  motive  of  resistance  to  sup- 
pression, the  elemental  pulse  of  life  itself.  There  is 
somehow  a  divine  dignity  about  the  lowest  in  human 
rank,  whether  racial  or  individual.  The  oppressed 
of  a  nation  stands  a  universal  type,  his  wrongs  are  the 
wrongs  of  all,  and  so  his  lament  has  a  world-wide 
appeal.  And  in  truth  from  the  lowest  class  rises  ever 
the  rich  spring  of  folk-song  of  which  all  the  art  is 
reared,  whence  comes  the  paradox  that  the  peasant 
furnishes  the  song  for  the  delight  of  his  oppressors, 
while  they  boast  of  it  as  their  own.  Just  in  so  far  as 
man  is  devoid  of  hiimaii  sympathy,  is  he  narrow  and 
barren  in  his  song.  Music  is  mere  feeling,  the  fulness 
of  human  experience,  not  in  the  hedonic  sense  of 
modern  tendencies,  but  of  pure  joys  and  profound 
sorrows  that  spring  from  elemental  relations,  of  man 
to  man,  of  mate  to  mate. 

Here  lies  the  nobility  of  the  common  people  and  of 
its  song:  the  national  phase  is  a  mere  incident  of 
political  conditions.  The  war  of  races  is  no  alembic 
for  beauty  of  art.  If  there  were  no  national  lines, 
there  would  still  be  folk-song, — merely  without  sharp 
distinction.  The  future  of  music  lies  less  in  the  dif- 
ferentiation of  human  song,  than  in  its  blending. 

Thus  we  may  rejoice  in  the  musical  utterance  of  a 
race    like    the    Eussian,    groaning    and    struggling 
through  ages  against  autocracy  for  the  dignity  of  man 
10  145 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

himself, — and  in  a  less  degree  for  the  Bohemian, 
seeking  to  hold  its  heritage  against  enforced  submer- 
gence. But  we  cannot  take  so  seriously  the  proud 
self-isolation  of  other  independent  nations. 

BALAKIREW.*   SYMPHONY  IX  C 
The  national  idea,  shines  throughout,  apart  from 
the  "  Russian  Theme  "  that  forms  the  main  text  of 
the  Finale.    One  may  see  the  whole  symphony  leading 
up  to  the  national  celebration. 

As  in  the  opening  phrase  (in  solemn  Largo)  with 

(Lower  reed,  with  strings  in  three  8ves.) 
Largo 


=? 


M=f=~ 

its  answer  are  proclaimed  the  subjects  that  presently 


appear  in  rapid  pace,  so  the  whole  movement  must  be 
taken  as  a  big  prologue,  forecasting  rather  than  rea- 
lizing. There  is  a  dearth  of  melodic  stress  and 

*  Mili  Alexeivich  Balakirew  wsus  born  at  Nizhni-Novgo- 
rod in    1836;   he  died  at  St.   Petersburg   in    1911.     He   is 
regarded  as  the  founder  of  the  Neo-Russian  School. 
146 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 

balance;  so  little  do  the  subjects  differ  that  they 
are  in  essence  merely  obverse  in  outline. 

Mystic  harmonies  and  mutations  of  the  motto  lead 
to  a  quicker  guise  (Allegro  vivo).  Independently  of 
themes,  the  rough  edge  of  tonality  and  the  vigorous 
primitive  rhythms  are  expressive  of  the  Slav  feeling. 
Withal  there  is  a  subtlety  of  harmonic  manner  that 
could  come  only  through  the  grasp  of  the  classics 
common  to  all  nations.  Augmentation  and  diminu- 
tion of  theme  abound,  together  with  the  full  fugal 
manner.  A  warm,  racial  color  is  felt  in  the  prodigal 
use  of  lower  reeds.* 

In  all  the  variety  of  quick  and  slower  melodies  a 
single  phrase  of  five  notes,  the  opening  of  the  sym- 
phony, pervades.  In  all  kinds  of  humor  it  sings, 
martial,  solemn,  soothing,  meditative,  or  sprightly. 
Poetic  in  high  degree  is  this  subtle  metamorphosis, 
so  that  the  symphony  in  the  first  movement  seems 
to  prove  the  art  rather  than  the  national  spirit  of  the 
Neo-Eussians. 

Of  the  original  answer  is  wrought  all  the  balance 
and  foil  of  second  theme,  and  like  the  first  it  reaches 
a  climactic  height.  But  the  first  is  the  sovereign 
figure  of  the  story.  It  enters  into  the  pattern  of 
every  new  phase,  it  seems  the  text  of  which  all  the 
melodies  are  fashioned,  or  a  sacred  symbol  that  must 
be  all-pervading.  In  a  broader  pace  (Alia  breve) 

*  Besides  the  English  horn  and  four  bassoons  there  are 
four  clarinets, — double  the  traditional  number. 
147 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

is  u  mystic  discussion  of  the  legend,  as  of  dogma, 
ending  in  big  pontifical  blast  of  the  answering  theme. 

The  whole  movement  is  strangely  frugal  of  joy on* 
abandon.  Instead  of  rolling,  revelling  melody  tln>iv 
is  stern  proclamation,  as  of  oracle,  in  the  .solemn 
pauses.  The  rhythm  is  purposely  hemmed  and 
broken.  Restraint  is  everywhere.  Almost  the  only 
continuous  thread  is  of  the  meditative  fugue. 

A  single  dulcet  lyric  verse  (of  the  motto)  is  soon 

(Cellos  with  tremolo  of  lower  strings) 

* 


banished  by  a  sudden  lively,  eccentric  phrase  that  has 
an  air  of  forced  gaiety,  with  interplay  of  mystic  sym- 
bols. At  last,  on  a  farther  height,  comes  the  first 


joyous  abandon  (in  a  new  mask  of  the  motto),  recur 
ring  anon  as  recess  from  sombre  brooding. 
148 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 

Here  the  second  subject  has  a  free  song, — in  gentle 
chase  of  pairs  of  voices  (of  woodwind  and  muted 
strings  and  harp)  and  grows  to  alluring  melody.  As 

(Lower  reed,  with  tremolo  of  lower  strings) 
|  1st  ending    \  3d  ending 


from  a  dream  the  eccentric  trip  awakens  us,  on 
ever  higher  wing.  At  the  top  in  slower  swing  of 
chords  horn  and  reeds  chant  the  antiphonal  legend, 
and  in  growing  rapture,  joined  by  the  strings,  rush 
once  more  into  the  jubilant  revel,  the  chanting  legend 
still  sounding  anon  in  sonorous  bass. 

The  climax  of  feeling  is  uttered  in  a  fiery  burst 
of  all  the  brass  in  the  former  dulcet  refrain  from  the 
motto.  In  full  sweep  of  gathering  host  it  flows  in 
unhindered  song.  Somehow  by  a  slight  turn,  the 
tune  is  transformed  into  the  alluring  melody  of  the 
second  theme.  When  the  former  returns,  we  feel  that 
both  strains  are  singing  as  part  of  a  single  song  and 
that  the  two  subjects  are  blended  and  reconciled  in 
rapture  of  content. 

A  new  mystic  play  of  the  quicker  motto,  answered 
by  the  second  theme,  leads  to  an  overpowering  blast 
149 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

of  the  motto  in  slowest  notes  of  brass  and  reed,  ending 
in  a  final  fanfare. 

All  lightness  is  the  Scherzo,  though  we  cannot 
escape  a  Russian  vein  of  minor  even  in  the  dance.  A 
rapid  melody  "has  a  kind  of  perpetual  motion  in  the 
strings,  with  mimicking  echoes  in  the  wood.  But  the 
strange  part  is  how  the  natural  accompanying  voice 
below  (in  the  bassoon)  makes  a  haunting  melody  of 
(Violins  doubled  below  in  violas) 


Vivo 


(Pizz.  cellos) 

its  own, — especially  when  they  fly  away  to  the  major. 
As  we  suspected,  the  lower  proves  really  the  principal 
song  as  it  winds  on  in  the  languorous  English  horn 
or  in  the  higher  reed.  Still  the  returning  dance  has 
now  the  whole  stage  in  a  long  romp  with  strange 
peasant  thud  of  the  brass  on  the  second  beat.  Then 
the  song  rejoins  the  dance,  just  as  in  answering  glee, 
later  in  united  chorus. 

A  quieter  song  (that  might  have  been  called  the 
Trio)  has  still  a  clinging  flavor  of  the  soil, — as  of  a 
folk-ballad,  that  is  not  lost  with  the  later  madrigal 
nor  with  the  tripping  figure  that  runs  along. 

Strangely,  after  the  full  returning  dance,  an  epi- 
150 


THE  NEC-RUSSIANS 
(Trio)   Poco  meno  mosso 

i 


logue  of  the  ballad  appears  over  a  drone,  as  of  bag- 
pipe, through  all  the  harmony  of  the  madrigal. 
Strangest  of  all  is  the  playful  last  refrain  in  the  high 
piccolo  over  the  constant  soft  strumming  strings. 

The    Andante,    in    pure    lyric    mood,    is    heavily 
charged  with  a  certain  Oriental  languor.     The  clari- 

(Clarinet) 
Andante 


(Strings        Pizz. 
with  harp)     Con  8ve. 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


net  leads  the  song,  to  rich  strum  of  harp  and  strings, 
with  its  note  of  sensuous  melancholy.  Other.  rnurr 
external  signs  there  are  of  Eastern  melody,  as  in  the 
graceful  curl  of  quicker  notes.  Intermediate  strains 
between  the  verses  seem  gently  to  rouse  the  slumber- 
ing feeling, — still  more  when  they  play  between  tin- 
lines  of  the  song.  The  passion  that  is  lulled  in  the 
languor  of  main  melody,  is  somehow  uttered  in  the 
later  episode, — still  more  in  the  dual  song  of  both 


(Violins  doubled 
s      ..-below) 


JJ[.      ±* 


f  (Horns  and  bassoons 
doubled  above  in  wood) 


^m 


(Strings    U,-^ 
and  horns)  Con8ve- 


melodies, — though  it  quickly  drops  before  a  str.r <_•••• 

coquetn   of  other  strains.     Yet  the  climax  of  the 

152 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 

main  song  is  reached  when  the  lighter  phrase  rings 
fervently  in  the  high  brass.  Here  the  lyric  beauty  is 
stressed  in  a  richer  luxuriance  of  rhythmic  setting. 
Once  more  sings  the  passionate  tune ;  then  in  midst 
of  the  last  verse  of  the  main  song  is  a  quick  alarm 
of  rushing  harp.  The  languorous  dream  is  broken; 
there  is  an  air  of  new  expectancy.  Instead  of  a  close 
is  a  mere  pause  on  a  passing  harmony  at  the  portals 
of  the  high  festival. 

With  a  clear  martial  stress  the  "'  Hussion  Theme  " 
is  sounded   (in  low  strings),  to  the  full  a  national 

Allegro  moderato 
Finale     Theme  Russe 


(Cellos  with  basses  in  lower  8ve.) 


tune  of  northern  race.  Enriched  with  prodigal  har- 
mony and  play  of  lesser  themes  it  flows  merrily  on, 
yet  always  with  a  stern  pace,  breaking  out  at  last  in 
a  blare  of  warlike  brass. 

Xor  does  the  martial  spirit  droop  in  the  second 

tune,   though   the   melodies   are    in   sheer   contrast. 

Tn  faster  rhythm,  the  second  is  more  festal  so  that 

the  first  returning  has  a  tinge  almost  of  terror.    An 

153 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


after-strain  of  the  second  has  a  slightest  descent  to 
reflective  feeling,  from  which  there  is  a  new  rebound 


<„    (Genoa) 


(Strings  and  harp  with 
sustained  chord  of  horns) 

to  the  buoyant  (festal)  melody. 

Here  in  grim  refrains,  in  dim  depths  of  basses 
154 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 

(with  hollow  notes  of  horns)  the  national  tune  has  a 
free  fantasy  until  it  is  joined  by  the  second  in  a  loud 
burst  in  the  minor. 

Now  the  latter  sings  in  constant  alternation  with 
the  answering  strain,  then  descends  in  turn  into  the 
depths  of  sombre  musing.  There  follows  a  big,  reso- 
nant dual  climax  (the  main  theme  in  lower  brass), 
with  an  edge  of  grim  defiance.  In  the  lull  we  seem 
to  catch  a  brief  mystic  play  of  the  first  motto  of  the 
symphony  (in  the  horns)  before  the  last  joyous  song 
of  both  melodies, — all  with  a  power  of  intricate 
design  and  a  dazzling  brilliancy  of  harmony,  in 
proud  national  celebration. 

A  last  romp  is  in  polacca  step  on  the  tune  of  the 
Russian  Theme. 

RHISKY-KOPSAKOW*     "  AXTAR,"  8TMPHOXY 
The  title-page  tells  us  that  "  the  subject  is  taken 
from  an  Arabian  tale  of  Sennkowsky."    Opposite  the 
beginning  of  the  score  is  a  summary  of  the  story,  in 
Eussian  and  in  French,  as  follows: 

I. — Awful  is  the  view  of  the  desert  of  Sham;  mighty 
in  their  desolation  are  the  ruins  of  Palmyra,  the  city 
razed  by  the  spirits  of  darkness.  But  Antar,  the  man  of 
the  desert,  braves  them,  and  dwells  serenely  in  the  midst 
of  the  scenes  of  destruction.  Antar  has  forever  forsaken 
the  company  of  mankind.  He  has  sworn  eternal  hatred 
on  account  of  the  evil  they  returned  him  for  the  good 
which  he  intended. 

Suddenly  a  charming,  graceful  gazelle  appears.     Antar 

*  Nicholas   Rimsky-Korsakow,   Russian,    1844-1908. 
155 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

starts  to  pursue  it.  But  a  great  noise  seems  pulsing 
through  the  heavens,  and  the  light  of  day  is  veiled  by  a 
dense  shadow.  It  is  a  giant  bird  that  is  giving  chase  to 
the  gazelle. 

Antar  straightway  changes  his  intent,  and  attacks  the 
monster,  which  gives  a  piercing  cry  and  flies  away.  The 
gazelle  disappears  at  the  same  time,  and  Antar,  left  alone 
in  the  midst  of  ruins,  soon  goes  to  sleep  while  meditating 
on  the  event  that  has  happened. 

He  sees  himself  transported  to  a  splendid  palace,  where 
a  multitude  of  slaves  hasten  to  serve  him  and  to  charm  his 
ear  with  their  song.  It  is  the  abode  of  the  Queen  of 
Palmyra, — the  fairy  Gul-nazar.  The  gazelle  that  he  has 
saved  from  the  talons  of  the  spirit  of  darkness  is  none 
other  than  the  fairy  herself.  In  gratitude  (!ul-nazar  prom- 
ises Antar  the  three  great  joys  of  life,  and,  when  he 
assents  to  the  proffered  gift,  the  vision  vanishes  and  he 
awakes  amid  the  surrounding  ruins. 

II. — The  first  joy  granted  by  the  Queen  of  Palmyra  to 
Antar  are  the  delights  of  vengeance. 

III. — The  second  joy — the  delights  of  power. 

IV. — Antar  has  returned  to  the  fallen  remains  of  Pal- 
myra. The  third  and  last  gift  granted  by  the  fairy  to 
Antar  is  the  joy  of  true  love.  Antar  begs  the  fairy  to 
take  away  his  life  as  soon  as  she  perceives  the  least 
estrangement  on  his  side,  and  she  promises  to  do  his 
desire. 

After  a  long  time  of  mutual  bliss  the  fairy  perceives, 
one  day,  that  Antar  is  absent  in  spirit  and  is  gazing  into 
the  distance.  Straightway,  divining  the  reason,  she  pas- 
sionately embraces  him.  The  fire  of  her  love  enflames 
Antar,  and  his  heart  is  consumed  away. 

Their  lips  meet  in  a  la&t  kiss  and  Antar  dies  in  the 
arms  of  the  fairy. 

The  phases  of  the  story  are  clear  in  the  chain  of 
musical   scenes,   of  the   movements  themselves  and 
156 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 


within  them.  In  the  opening  Largo  that  recurs  in 
this  movement  between  the  visions  and  happenings, 
a  melody  appears  (in  violas)  that  moves  in  all  the 


u  (Vio'as)  Largo 


„ 


i  MM  j._ 


(Woodwind)  f)f) " 

acts  of  the  tragedy.    It  is  clearly  the  Antar  motive,— 
here  amidst  ruin  and  desolation. 

The  fairy  theme  is  also  unmistakable,  that  first 
plays  in  the  flute,  against  soft  horns,  Allegro  giocoso, 

(Flute) 
Allegro  giocoso 


and  is  lost  in  the  onrushing  attack,  furioso,  of  a 
strain  that  begins  in  murmuring  of  muted  strings. 

Other  phrases  are  merely  graphic  or  incidental. 
But  the  Antar  motive  is  throughout  the  central  mov- 
ing figure. 

The  scene  of  the  desert  returns  at  the  end  of  the 
movement. 

In  the  second  (Allegro,  rising  to  Molto  allegro, 
157 


I 

SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

returning  allargando)  the  Antar  motive  is  seldom 
absent.  The  ending  is  in  long  notes  of  solo  oboe  and 
first  violins.  There  is  no  trace  of  the  fairy  queen 
throughout  the  movement. 

The  third  movement  has  phases  of  mighty  action 
(as  in  the  beginning,  Allegro  risoluto  alia  Marcia}, 
of  delicate  charm,  and  even  of  humor.  The  Antar 
melody  plays  in  the  clangor  of  big  climax  in  sonorous 
tones  of  the  low  brass,  against  a  quick  martial  phrase 
of  trumpets  and  horns.  Again  there  is  in  this  move- 
ment no  sign  of  the  fairy  queen. 

In  the  fourth  movement,  after  a  prelude,  Allegretto 
vivace,  with  light  trip  of  high  flutes,  a  melody,  of 
actual  Arab  origin,  sings  Andante  amoroso  in  the 

(Arabian  melody) 
Andante  amoroso 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 

English  horn,  and  continues  almost  to  the  end, 
broken  only  by  the  dialogue  of  the  lover  themes. 
At  the  close  a  last  strain  of  the  Antar  melody  is 
followed  by  the  fairy  phrase  and  soft  vanishing  chord 
of  harp  and  strings. 

"  SCHEREZADE,"    AFTER    "A    THOUSAND    AND    ONE 
NIGHTS."     SYMPHONIC  SUITE 

Prefixed  to  the  score  is  a  "  program,"  in  Russian 
and  French :  "  The  Sultan  Schahriar,  convinced  of 
the  infidelity  of  women,  had  sworn  to  put  to  death 
each  of  his  wives  after  the  first  night.  But  the  Sultana 
Scherezade  saved  her  life  by  entertaining  him  with 
the  stories  which  she  told  him  during  a  thousand  and 
one  nights.  Overcome  by  curiosity,  the  Sultan  put 
off  from  day  to  day  the  death  of  his  wife,  and  at  last 
entirely  renounced  his  bloody  vow. 

Many  wonders  were  told  to  Schahriar  by  the  Sul- 
tana Scherezade.  For  the  stories  the  Sultana  bor- 
rowed the  verses  of  poets  and  the  words  of  popular 
romances,  and  she  fitted  the  tales  and  adventures  one 
within  the  other. 

I.  The  Sea  and  the  Vessel  of  Sindbad. 

II.  The  Tale  of  the  Prince  Kalender. 

III.  The  Young  Prince  and  the  Young  Princess. 

IV.  Feast  at  Bagdad.     The  Sea.     The  Vessel  is 
Wrecked  on  a  Rock  on  which  is  Mounted  a  Warrior 
of  Brass.     Conclusion." 

With  all  the  special  titles  the  whole  cannot  be  re- 
159 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

garded  as  close  description.  It  is  in  no  sense  narra- 
tive music.  The  titles  are  not  in  clear  order  of 
events,  and,  moreover,  they  are  quite  vague. 

In  the  first  number  we  have  the  sea  and  merely  the 
vessel,  not  the  voyages,  of  Sindbad.  Then  the  story 
of  the  Prince  Kalender  cannot  be  distinguished 
among  the  three  tales  of  the  royal  mendicants.  The 
young  prince  and  the  young  princess, — there  are 
many  of  them  in  these  Arabian  fairy  tales,  though 
\YQ  can  guess  at  the  particular  one.  Finally,  in  the 
last  number,  the  title  mentions  an  event  from  the 
story  of  the  third  Prince  Kalender,  where  the  vessel 
(not  of  Sindbad)  is  wrecked  upon  a  rock  surmounted 
by  a  warrior  of  brass.  The  Feast  of  Bagdad  has  no 
special  place  in  any  one  of  the  stories. 

The  truth  is,  it  is  all  a  mirroring  in  tones  of  the 
charm  and  essence  of  these  epic  gems  of  the  East. 
It  is  not  like  the  modern  interlinear  description, 
although  it  might  be  played  during  a  reading  on 
account  of  the  general  agreement  of  the  color  and 
spirit  of  the  music.  But  there  is  the  sense  and  feeling 
of  the  story,  das  Marchen,  and  the  romance  of  adven- 
ture. The  brilliancy  of  harmony,  the  eccentricity  and 
gaiety  of  rhythm  seem  symbolic  and,  in  a  subtle  way, 
descriptive.  As  in  the  subject,  the  stories  themselves, 
there  is  a  luxuriant  imagery,  but  no  sign  of  the  ele- 
ment of  reflection  or  even  of  emotion. 

7. — The  opening  motive,  in  big,  broad  rhythm,  is 
clearly  the  Sea.  Some  have  called  it  the  Sindbad 
160 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 

motive.  But  in  essence  these  are  .not  very  different. 
The  Sea  is  here  the  very  feeling  and  type  of  adven- 
ture,— nay,  Adventure  itself.  It  is  a  necessary  part 
of  fairy  stories.  Here  it  begins  and  ends  with  its 
rocking  theme,  ever  moving  onward.  It  comes  in 
the  story  of  the  Prince  Kalender. 

The  second  of  the  main  phrases  is  evidently  the 
motive  of  the  fairy  tale  itself,  the  feeling  of  "  once 
upon  a  time,"  the  idea  of  story,  that  leads  us  to  the 
events  themselves.  It  is  a.  mere  strumming  of  chords 
of  the  harp,  Avith  a  vague  line,  lacking  rhythm,  as 
of  musical  prose.  For  rhythm  is  the  type  of  event, 
of  happenings,  of  the  adventure  itself.  So  the  form- 
less phrase  is  the  introduction,  the  narrator,  Marchen 
in  an  Oriental  dress  as  Scherezade. 

The  first  number  passes  for  the  most  part  in  a 
rocking  of  the  motive  of  the  sea,  in  various  moods 
and  movements:  Largo  c  maestoso,  Allegro  non 
troppo, — trcmquillo.  At  one  time  even  the  theme 
of  the  story  sings  to  the  swaying  of  the  sea.* 

//. — In  the  tale  of  the  Prince  Kalender  Scherezade, 
of  course,  begins  the  stoiy  as  usual.  B'ut  the  main 
thread  is  in  itself  another  interwoven  tale, — Andan- 
lino  Capriccioso,  quasi  recitando,  Avith  a  solo  in  the 
bassoon  dolce  e  espressivo, — later  poco  piu  mosso, 

*  We   remember   how    Sindbad   was   tempted    after   each 
fortunate    escape    from    terrible    dangers    to    embark    once 
more,  and  how  he  tells  the  story  of  the  seven  voyages  on 
seven  successive  days,  amid  luxury  and  feasting. 
11  161 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

in  violins.*  There  is  most  of  happenings  here.  A 
very  strident  phrase  that  plays  in  the  brass  Allegro 
molto,  may  be  some  hobgoblin,  or  rather  an  evil 
jinn,  that  holds  the  princess  captive  and  wrecks 
the  hero's  vessel.  The  sea,  too,  plays  a  tempestuous 
part  at  the  same  time  with  the  impish  mischief  of 
the  jinn. 

777. — The  third  number  is  the  idyll,— both  of  the 
stories  and  of  the  music.  Here  we  are  nearest  to  a 
touch  of  sentiment, — apart  from  the  mere  drama  of 
haps  and  mishaps,  f  But  there  are  all  kinds  of 

*  In  the  old  version  the  word  "  Calender  "  is  used ;  in  the 
new  translation  by  Lane  we  read  of  "  The  Three  Royal 
Mendicants."  In  certain  ancient  editions  they  are  called 
Karendelees," — i.e.,  "  miserable  beggars."  Each  of  the 
three  had  lost  an  eye  in  the  course  of  1m  misfortunes. 
The  story  (of  the  Third  Kalender)  begins  with  the  wreck 
of  the  prince's  vessel  on  the  mountain  of  loadstone  and 
the  feat  of  the  prince,  who  shoots  the  brazen  horseman 
on  top  of  the  mountain  and  so  breaks  the  charm.  But 
there  is  a  long  chain  of  wonders  and  of  troubles,  of  evil 
enchantments  and  of  fateful  happenings. 

f  The  story,  if  any  particular  one  is  in  the  mind  of  the 
composer,  is  probably  that  of  the  Prince  Kamar-ez-Zemftn 
and  the  Princess  Budoor.  In  the  quality  of  the  romance  it 
approaches  the  legends  of  a  later  age  of  chivalry.  In  the 
main  it  is  the  long  quest  and  the  final  meeting  of  a  prince 
and  a  princess,  living  in  distant  kingdoms.  Through  the 
magic  of  genii  they  have  seen  each  other  once  and  have  ex- 
changed rings.  The  rest  of  the  story  is  a  long  search  one 
for  the  other.  There  are  good  and  evil  spirits,  long  jour- 
neys by  land  and  sea,  and  great  perils.  It  is  an  Arab 
story  of  the  proverbial  course  of  true  love. 
162 


THE  NEORUSSIANS 

special  events.  There  is  no  prelude  of  the  narrator. 
The  idyll  begins  straightway,  Andantino  quasi  alle- 
gretto, winds  through  all  kinds  of  scenes  and  storms, 
then  sings  again  dolce  e  cantabile.  Here,  at  last, 
the  Scherezade  phrase  is  heard  on  the  violin  solo,  to 
chords  of  the  harp;  but  presently  it  is  lost  in  the  con- 
cluding strains  of  the  love  story. 

IV. — The  last  number  begins  with  the  motive  of  the 
sea,  like  the  first,  but  Allegro  motto,  again  followed 
by  the  phrase  of  the  story  teller.  The  sea  returns 
Allegro  molto  e  frenetico  in  full  force,  and  likewise 
the  vague  motive  of  the  story  in  a  cadenza  of  violin 
solo.  Then  Vivo  conies  the  dance,  the  pomp  and 
gaiet}T  of  the  Festival,  with  tripping  tambourine  and 
strings  and  the  song  first  in  the  flutes.*  Presently 
a  reminder  of  the  sea  intrudes, — con  forza  in  lower 
wood  and  strings.  But  other  familiar  figures  flit  by, 
— the  evil  jinn  and  the  love-idyll.  Indeed  the  latter 
has  a  full  verse, — in  the  midst  of  the  carnival. 

Right  out  of  the  festival,  rather  in  full  festal 
array,  we  seem  to  plunge  into  the  broad  movement 
of  the  surging  sea,  Allegro  non  troppo  e  maestoso, 
straight  on  to  the  fateful  event.  There  are  no  sighs 
and  tears.  Placidly  the  waves  play  softly  about.  And 
dolce  e  capriccioso  the  siren  Scherezade  once  more 
reappears  to  conclude  the  tale. 

*  We  may  think  of  the  revels  of  Sindbad  before  the  re- 
turning thirst  for  adventure. 

163 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


RACE  MANINOW.     SYMPHONY  IN  E  MINOR  » 

/.  —  The  symphony  begins  with  the  sombre  temper 
of  modern  Russian  art;  at  the  outset  it  seems  to 
throb  with  inmost  feeling,  uttered  in  subtlest  design. 

The  slow  solemn  prelude  (Largo)  opens  with  the 


- 


(Strings)  f)f)  ^==- 
Con  8ve. 

chief  phrase  of  the  work  in  lowest  strings  to  ominous 
chords,  and  treats  it  with  passionate  stress  until  the 
main  pace  of  Allegro. 

Espr.  (Violins)         -— ^ 

Iti-T^J^OT/ 


£=£ 


m 


(Wood  and  horns) 


But  the  germ  of  prevailing  legend  lies  deeper.  The 
work  is  one  of  the  few  symphonies  where  the  whole 
is  reared  on  a  smallest  significant  phrase.  The  first 
strain  (of  basses)  is  indeed  the  essence  of  the  follow- 
ing melody  and  in  turn  of  the  main  Allegro  theme. 
But,  to  probe  still  further,  we  cannot  help  feeling 

*  Sergei    Rachmaninow,    horn    in    1873. 
164 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 

an  ultimate,  briefest  motive  of  single  ascending  tone 
against  intrinsic  obstacle,  wonderfully  expressed  in 
the  harmony,  with  a  mingled  sense  of  resolution  and 
regret.  And  of  like  moment  is  the  reverse  descending 
tone.  Both  of  these  symbols  reappear  throughout  the 
symphony,  separate  or  blended  in  larger  melody,  as 
principal  or  accompanying  figures.  Aside  from  this 
closer  view  that  makes  clear  the  tissue  of  themal 
discussion,  the  first  phrase  is  the  main  melodic  motto, 
that  is  instantly  echoed  in  violins  with  piquant  har- 
mony. In  the  intricate  path  of  deep  musing  we  feel 
the  mantle  of  a  Schumann  who  had  himself  a  kind  of 
heritage  from  Bach.  And  thus  we  come  to  see  the 
national  spirit  best  and  most  articulate  through  the 
medium  of  ancient  art. 

The  main  Allegro  melody  not  so  much  grows  out 
of  the  Largo  prelude,  as  it  is  of  the  same  fibre  and 


(Strings  with 
clarinets  and  bassoons) 

identity.      The   violins   sing  here   against   a   stately 

march   of   harmonies.      Such   is   the  fine   coherence 

165 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

that  the  mere  heralding  rhythm  is  wrought  of  the 
first  chords  of  the  Largo,  with  their  descending  stress. 
And  the  expressive  melody  is  of  the  same  essence 
as  the  original  sighing  motto,  save  with  a  shift  of 
accent  that  gives  a  new  fillip  of  motion.  In  this 
movement  at  least  we  see  the  type  of  real  symphony, 
that  throbs  and  sings  and  holds  us  in  the  thrall  of  its 
spirit  and  song. 

Moments  there  are  here  of  light  and  joy,  quickly 
drooping  to  the  darker  mood.  Following  the  free 
flight  of  main  melody  is  a  skein  of  quicker  figures, 
on  aspirant  pulse,  answered  by  broad,  tragic  descent 
in  minor  tones. 

Milder,  more  tranquil  sings  now  the  second  mel- 
ody, a  striking  embodiment  of  the  sense  of  striving 
ascent.  Chanted  in  higher  reeds,  it  is  immediately 

(Oboes  and  clarinets)  (Oboes 

(Violins) 


I       _  .  >^^  ' — ^  .    $*,  ^~ 

r?  •    =**PE 


(Pizz.  strings)  ' 
followed  and  accompanied  by  an  expressive  answer  in 
the  strings.  On  the  wing  of  this  song  we  rise  to  a 
height  where  begins  the  path  of  a  brief  nervous 
motive  (of  the  first  notes  of  the  symphony)  that  with 
160 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 

the  descending  tone  abounds  in  various  guise.  As  a 
bold  glance  at  the  sun  is  punished  by  a  sight  of  solar 
figures  all  about,  so  we  feel  throughout  the  tonal 
story  the  presence  of  these  symbols.  An  epilogue  of 
wistful  song  leads  to  the  repeated  melodies. 

The  main  figure  of  the  plot  that  follows  is  the  first 
melody,  now  in  slow,  graceful  notes,  now  in  feverish 
pace,  though  the  brief  (second)  motive  moves  con- 
stantly here  and  there.  A  darkest  descent  follows 
into  an  Avernus  of  deep  brooding  on  the  legend,  with 
an  ascending  path  of  the  brief,  nervous  phrase  and  a 
reverse  fall,  that  finally  wears  out  its  own  despair 
and  ends  in  a  sombre  verse  of  the  prelude,  with  new 
shades  of  melancholy,  then  plunges  into  an  over- 
whelming burst  on  the  sighing  phrase.  Thence  the 
path  of  brooding  begins  anew;  but  it  is  now  ascend- 
ant, on  the  dual  pulse  of  the  poignant  motto  and  the 
brief,  nervous  motive.  The  whole  current  of  passion 
is  thus  uttered  in  the  prelude  strain  that  at  the  outset 
was  pregnant  with  feeling.  At  the  crisis  it  is  an- 
swered or  rather  interwoven  with  a  guise  of  the  second 
theme,  in  hurried  pace,  chanted  by  stentorian  brass 
and  wood  in  hallooing  chorus  that  reaches  a  high 
exultation.  To  be  sure  the  Eussian  at  his  gladdest 
seems  tinged  with  sense  of  fate.  So  from  the  single 
burst  we  droop  again.  But  the  gloom  is  pierced  by 
brilliant  shafts, — herald  calls  (of  brass  and  wood) 
that  raise  the  mood  of  the  returning  main  melody, 
and  in  their  continuous  refrain  add  a  buoyant 
stimulus.  And  the  verse  of  quicker  figures  has  a  new 
167 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

lire  and  ferment.  All  absent  is  the  former  descent 
of  minor  tones.  Instead,  in  solemn  hush  of  tempest, 
without  the  poignant  touch,  the  tranquil  second  mel- 
ody returns  with  dulcet  answer  of  strings.  A  loveliest 
verse  is  of  this  further  song  where,  in  a  dual  chase 
of  tune,  the  melody  moves  in  contained  rapture.  In 
the  cadence  is  a  transfigured  phase  of  the  ascending 
tone,  mingled  with  the  retiring  melody,  all  woven 
to  a  soothing  cadence. 

But  the  struggle  is  not  over,  nor  is  redemption 
near.  The  dulcet  phrases  sink  once  more  to  sombre 
depth  where  there  is  a  final,  slow-gathering  burst 
of  passion  on  the  motto,  with  a  conclusive  ring  almost 
of  fierce  triumph. 

//. — The  second  movement,  Allegro  molto,  i.s  a 
complete  change  from  introspection  and  passion  to  an 

Allegro  molto 
(Insistent  strum 
of  strings) 


Abandon   as   of  primitive   dance.      Strings   stir  the 

feet ;  the  horns  blow  the  first  motive  of  the  savage 

tune;  the  upper  wood  fall  in  with  a  dashing  jingle, — 

like  a  stroke  of  cymbals  across  the  hostile  harmonies. 

Whether  a  recurring  idiom  is  merely  personal  or 

belongs  to  the  special  work  is  difficult  to  tell.     In 

reality  it  matters  little.     Here   the  strange   rising 

168 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 

tone  is  the  same  as  in  the  former  (second)  melody. 
In  the  rude  vigor  of  harmonies  the  primitive  idea 
is  splendidly  stressed. 

Right  in  the  answer  is  a  guise  of  short,  nervous 
phrase,  that  gets  a  new  touch  of  bizarre  by  a  leap  of 
the  seventh  from  below.  In  this  figure  that  moves 
throughout  the  symphony  we  see  an  outward  symbol 
of  an  inner  connection. — Bells  soon  lend  a  festive 
ring  to  the  main  tune. 

In  quieter  pace  conies  a  tranquil  song  of  lower 
voices  with  a  companion  melody  above, — all  in  serene 
major.  Though  it  grew  naturally  out  of  the  rude 


1 h- 

~i —  t; 


8ve. 


dance,  the  tune  has  a  contrasting  charm  of  idyll  and, 
too.  harks  back  to  the  former  lyric  strains  that  fol- 
lowed the  second  melody.  Wheji  the  dance  returns, 
there  is  instead  of  discussion  a  mere  extension  of 
main  motive  in  full  chorus. 

But  here  in  the  midst  the  balance  is  more  than 

restored.     From  the  dance  that  ceases  abruptly  we 

go   straight   to   school   or  rather   cloister.      On   our 

recurring  nervous  phrase  a  fugue  is  rung  with  all 

169 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

pomp  and  ceremony  (meno  mosso) ;  and  of  the  dance 
there  are  mere  faint  echoing  memories,  when  the 

(Oboe) 
/  molto  marcato 


(Violins)  staccato 
/  molto  marcato 

fugal  text  seems  for  a  moment  to  weave  itself  into 
the  first  tune. 

Instead,  comes  into  the  midst  of  sermon  a  hymnal 
chant,  blown  gently  by  the  brass,  while  other  stray 

WLeggiero  I      I      I     I 


Con  See. 

voices  run  lightly  on  the  thread  of  fugue.  There  is, 
indeed,  a  playful  suggestion  of  the  dance  somehow  in 
the  air.  A  final  tempest  of  the  fugue  *  brings  us 

*  It  is  of  the  first  two  notes  of  the  symphony  that  the 
fugal  theme  is  made.  For  though  it  is  longer  in  the 
strings,  the  brief  motion  is  ever  accented  in  the  wood. 
Thus  relentless  is  the  themal  coherence.  If  we  care  to  look 
closer  we  see  how  the  (following)  chant  is  a  slower  form 
of  the  fugal  theme,  while  the  bass  is  in  the  line  of  the 
dance-tune.  In  the  chant  in  turn  we  cannot  escape  a  re-  . 
minder,  if  not  a  likeness,  of  the  second  theme  of  the  first 
movement. 

170 


THE  NEC-RUSSIANS 

back  to  the  full  verse  of  dance  and  the  following 
melodies.  But  before  the  end  sounds  a  broad  hymnal 
line  in  the  brass  with  a  dim  thread  of  the  fugue,  and 
the  figures  steal  away  in  solemn  stillness. 

HI- — The  Adagio  has  one  principal  burden,  first 
borne  by  violins, — that  rises  from  the  germ  of  earlier 


(Strings  with  added  harmony  in  bassoons  and  horns) 


lyric  strains.  Then  the  clarinet  joins  in  a  quiet 
madrigal  of  tender  phrases.  We  are  tempted  to  find 
here  an  influence  from  a  western  fashion,  a  taint  of 
polythemal  virtuosity,  in  this  mystic  maze  of  many 
strains  harking  from  all  corners  of  the  work,  without 
a  gain  over  an  earlier  Russian  simplicity.  Even  the 
Slavic  symphony  seems  to  have  fallen  into  a  state 
of  artificial  cunning,  where  all  manners  of  greater 
171 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


(Solo  clarinet) 
mf  etpresa. 


(Divided  f)f)  dolcc 
strings) 

poco  crcsc 


dim. 


or  lesser  motives  are  packed  close  in  a  tangled  mass. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  a  true  significance  is  achieved 
in  proportion  to  the  number  of  concerting  themes. 
We  might  dilate  on  the  sheer  inability  of  the  hearer 
to  grasp  a  clear  outline  in  such  a  multiple  plot. 

There  is  somehow  a  false  kind  of  polyphony,  a 
too  great  facility  of  spurious  counterpoint,  that  differs 
subtl}'  though  sharply  from  the  true  art  where  the 
number  entails  no  loss  of  individual  quality ;  where 
the  separate  melodies  move  by  a  divine  fitness  that 
measures  the  perfect  conception  of  the  multiple  idea ; 
where  there  is  no  thought  of  a  later  padding  to  give 
a  shimmer  of  profound  art.  It  is  here  that  the  sym- 
172 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 

phony  is  in  danger  from  an  exotic  style  that  had  its 
origin  in  German  music-drama. 

From  this  point  the  Eachmaninow  symphony  lan- 
guishes in  the  fountain  of  its  fresh  inspiration,  seems 
consciously  constructed  with  calculating  care. 

There  is,  after  all,  no  virtue  in  itself  in  mere 
themal  interrelation, — in  particular  of  lesser  phrases. 
One  cogent  theme  may  well  prevail  as  text  of  the 
whole.  As  the  recurring  motives  are  multiplied,  they 
must  lose  individual  moment.  The  listener's  grasp 
becomes  more  difficult,  until  there  is  at  best  a  mystic 
maze,  a  sweet  chaos,  without  a  clear  melodic  thought. 
It  cannot  be  maintained  that  the  perception  of  the 
modern  audience  has  kept  pace  with  the  complexity  of 
scores.  Yet  there  is  no  gainsaying  an  alluring  beauty  of 
these  waves  of  sound  rising  to  fervent  height  in  the 
main  melody  that  is  expressive  of  a  modern  wistfulness. 

But  at  the  close  is  a  fierce  outbreak  of  the  first 
motto,  with  a  defiance  of  regret,  in  faster,  reckless 
pace,  brief,  but  suddenly  recurring.  Exquisite  is  this 

S         (Ob.)  mf  cantabile 


(Strings,  wood  and  horns) 

cooing  of  voices  in  mournful  bits  of  the  motto,  with 
a  timid  upper  phrase  in  the  descending  tone. 
173 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

On  we  go  in  the  piling  of  Ossa  on  Pel  ion,  where 
the  motto  and  even  the  Scherzo  dance  lend  their  text. 
Yet  all  is  fraught  with  sentient  beauty  as,  rising  in 
Titanic  climb,  it  plunges  into  an  overwhelming  cry 
in  the  Adagio  melody.  Throughout,  the  ascending 
and  descending  tones,  close  interwoven,  give  a 
blended  hue  of  arduous  striving  and  regret. 

After  a  pause  follow  a  series  of  refrains  of  solo 
voices  in  the  melody,  with  muted  strings,  with  mingled 
strains  of  the  motto.  In  the  bass  is  an  undulation  that 
recalls  the  second  theme  of  former  movement.  And 
the  clarinet  returns  with  its  mystic  madrigal  of  melo- 
dy; now  the  Adagio  theme  enters  and  gives  it  point 
and  meaning.  In  one  more  burst  it  sings  in  big  and  lit- 
tle in  the  same  alluring  harmony,  whence  it  dies  down 
to  soothing  close  in  brilliant  gamut  as  of  sinking  sun. 

IV. — Allegro  vivace.    Throwing  aside  the  clinging 


Allegro  vivace 


^  (Strings,  f- 
wood  and ' 
horns  with  reinforced  harmonies) 

fragments  of  fugue  in  the  prelude  we  rush  into  a 

gaiety  long  sustained.    Almost  strident  is  the  ruthless 

merriment;  we  are  inclined  to  fear  that  the  literal 

174 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 


coherence  of  theme  is  greater  than  the  inner  connec- 
tion of  mood.  At  last  the  romp  hushes  to  a  whisper  of 
drum,  with  strange  patter  of  former  dance.  And  fol- 
lowing and  accompanying  it  is  a  new  hymnal  (or  is 
it  martial)  line,  as  it  were  the  reverse  of  the  other 


(Reeds  and  horns) 


(Strings  with  the  quicker  | \. 
dance  phrase  of  2d  movement) 

chant.  The  gay  figures  flit  timidly  back, — a  struggle 
'twixt  pleasure  and  fate, — but  soon  regain  control. 

If  we  cared  to  interpret,  we  might  find  in  the 
Finale  a  realized  aspiration.  The  truth  is  the  humor.* 
of  the  themal  phrases,  as  of  the  movements,  jar :  they 
are  on  varying  planes.  The  coarser  vein  of  the  last 
is  no  solace  to  the  noble  grief  of  the  foregoing. 

Again  the  change  or  series. of  moods  is  not  clearly 
defined.  They  seem  a  parade  of  visions.  The  hymn 
may  be  viewed  as  a  guise  of  the  former  chant  of  the 
Scherzo,  with  the  dance-trip  in  lowest  bass. 

Straight  from  the  rush  and1  romp  we  plunge  anew 
into  a  trance  of  sweet  memories.  The  lyric  vein  here 
binds  together  earlier  strains,  whose  kinship  had  not 
appeared.  They  seemed  less  significant,  hidden  as 
subsidiary  ideas.  If  we  care  to  look  back  we  find 
a  germ  of  phrase  in  the  first  Prelude,  and  then  the 
175 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

answer  of  the  second  (Allegro)  theme  of  first  move- 
ment. There  was,  too,  the  sweep  of  dual  melody 
following  the  rude  dance  of  Scherzo.  Above  all  is 
here  the  essence  and  spirit  of  the  central  Adagio 
melody  of  the  symphony. 

The  answering  strain  is  of  high  beaut}',  with  a 
melting  sense  of  farewell.    From  the  sad  ecstasy  is  a 

(Strings  with  higher  and  lower  8ve.) 


mf  ^(  Wood  and 
horns  in  8ves.) 


WSq — 1  ^  — 


descent  to  mystic  musing,  where  abound  the  symbols 
of  rising  and  falling  tones.  More  and  more  moving 
is  the  climactic  melody  of  regret  with  a  blended  song 
in  large  and  little.  Most  naturally  it  sinks  into  a  full 
verse  of  the  Adagio  tune — whence  instantly  is 
aroused  a  new  battle  of  moods. 

While  the  dance  capers  below,  above  is  the  sobbing 
phrase  from  the  heart  of  the  Adagio.  The  trip  falls 
into  the  pace  of  hymnal  march.  The  shadows  of 
many  figures  return.  Here  is  the  big  descending 
scale  in  tragic  minor  from  the  first  movement.  Large 
it  looms,  in  bass  ajid  treble.  Answering  it  is  a  figure 
of  sustained  thirds  that  recalls  the  former  second 
(Allegro)  melody.  And  still  the  trip  of  dance  goes  on. 
176 


THE  NEO-RUSSIANS 

Sharpest  and  strongest  of  all  these  memories  is  the 
big  sigh  of  sombre  harmonies  from  the  first  Largo 
prelude,  answered  by  the  original  legend.  And  the 
dance  still  goes  tripping  on  and  the  tones  rumble  in 
descent. 

The  dance  has  vanished ;  no  sound  but  the  drone  of 
dull,  falling  tones,  that  multiply  like  the  spirits  of 
the  sorcerer  apprentice,  in  large  form  and  small, 
with  the  big  rumbling  in  a  quick  patter  as  of  scurry- 
ing mice. 

Suddenly  a  new  spirit  enters  with  gathering  vol- 
ume and  warmer  harmony.  As  out  of  a  dream  we 
gradually  emerge,  at  the  end  with  a  shock  of  welcome 
to  light  and  day,  as  we  awake  to  the  returning  glad 
dance.  And  here  is  a  new  entrancing  countertune 
above  that  crowns  the  joy. 

Once  again  the  skip  falls  into  the  ominous  descent 
with  the  phantom  of  Scherzo  dance  in  basses.  Now 
returns  the  strange  hymnal  line  of  march  and  the 
other  anxious  hue. 

But  quickly  they  are  transformed  into  the  tempest 
of  gaiety  in  full  parade.  When  a  new  burst  is 
preparing,  we  see  the  sighing  figure  all  changed  to 
opposite  mood.  The  grim  tune  of  Scherzo  dance 
enters  mysteriously  in  big  and  little  and  slowly  takes 
on  a  softened  hue,  losing  the  savage  tinge. 

After  the  returning  dance,  the  farewell  melody 
sings  from  full  throat.  Before  the  ending  revel  we 
may  feel  a  glorified  guise  of  the  sombre  legend  of  the 
symphony. 

12  177 


CHAPTER  XII 
SIBELIUS.     A  FINNISH  SYMPHONY* 

\  \  TK  must  expect  tiiat  the  music  of  newer  nations 
»  »  will  be  national.  It  goes  without  saying;  for 
the  music  comes  fresh  from  the  soil;  it  is  not  tlw  re- 
sult of  long  refined  culture.  There  is  the  strain  and 
burst  of  a  burden  of  racial  feeling  to  utter  itself  in 
the  most  pliant  and  eloquent  of  all  the  languages  of 
emotion.  It  is  the  first  and  noblest  sentiment  of 
every  nation  conscious  of  its  own  worth,  and  it  has 
its  counterpart  in  the  individual.  Before  the  utter- 
ance has  been  found  by  a  people,  before  it  has  felt 
this  sense  of  its  own  quality,  no  other  message  can 
come.  So  the  most  glorious  period  in  the  history 
of  every  country  (even  in  the  eyes  of  other  nations) 
is  the  struggle  for  independence,  whether  successful 
or  not. 

All  on  a  new  plane  is  this  northernmost  symphony, 
with  a  crooning  note  almost  of  savage,  and  .sudden, 
fitful  bursts  from  languorous  to  fiery  mood.  The 
harmony,  the  turn  of  tune  have  a  national  quality, 
delicious  and  original,  though  the  Oriental  tinge 

*  Symphony  No.  1,  in  E  minor,  by  Jan  Sibelius,  born  in 
lflf>5. 

178 


A  FINNISH  SYMPHONY 

appears,  as  in  Slav  and  Magyar  music,  both  in  bold 
and  in  melancholy  humor.  Though  full  of  strange 
and  warm  colors,  the  harmonic  scheme  is  simple; 
rather  is  the  work  a  tissue  of  lyric  rhapsody  than 
the  close-woven  plot  of  tonal  epic.  A  certain  trace 
of  revery  does  find  a  vent  in  the  traditional  art  of 
contrary  melodies.  But  a  constant  singing  in  pairs 
is  less  art  than  ancient  folk-manner,  like  primal 
music  in  the  love  or  dance  songs  of  savages. 

The  symphony  begins  with  a  quiet  rhapsody  of 
solo  clarinet  in  wistful  minor,  clear  without  chords, 
though  there  is  a  straying  into  major.  There  is  no 
accompaniment  save  a  soft  roll  of  drum,  and  that 
soon  dies  away. 

Andante,  ma  non  troppo 


mfespress. 
(Clarinet) 

The  rhapsody  seems  too  vague  for  melody;  yet 
there  are  motives,  one  in  chief,  winding  to  a  pause; 
here  is  a  new  appealing  phrase;  the  ending  is  in  a 


return  to  the  first.  Over  the  whole  symphony  is  cast 
the  hue  of  this  rhapsody,  both  in  mood  and  in  the 
literal  tone. 

179 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

All  opposite,  with  sudden  spring  of  buoyant  strings, 
strikes  the  Allegro  tune  ending  in  a  quick,  dancing 
trip.  The  first  voice  is  immediately  pursued  by  an- 


Allegro  energico 


Piu  forte 
(Violins  with 
higher  8ve.) 


(Cellos  with  higher 
8ve.  in  violas) 

other  in  similar  phase,  like  a  gentler  shadow,  and  soon 
rises  to  a  passionate  chord  that  is  the  main  idiom 
of  the  movement. 


(Strings,  wood  and  horns) 


A  second  theme  in  clear-marked  tones  of  reed  and 
horns,  as  of  stern  chant,  is  taken  up  in  higher  wood 
and  grows  to   graceful    melody    in   flowing  strings. 
180 


A  FINNISH  SYMPHONY 


There  is  a  series  of  flights  to  an  ever  higher  perch  of 
harmony  until  the  first  Allegro  motive  rings  out  in 
fullest  chorus,  again  with  the  companion  tune  and 
the  cadence  of  poignant  dissonance. 

A  new  episode  comes  with  shimmering  of  harp  and 
strings,  where  rare  and  dainty  is  the  sense  of  primal 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

harmony  that  lends  a  pervading  charm  to  the  sym- 
phony. Here  the  high  wood  has  a  song  in  constant 
thirds,  right  from  the  heart  of  the  rhapsody,  all 
bedecked  as  melody  with  a  new  rhythm  and  answer. 
Soon  this  simple  lay  is  woven  in  a  skein  of  pairs  of 
voices,  meeting  or  diverging.  But  quickly  we  are 
back  in  the  trance  of  lyric  song,  over  palpitating 
strings,  with  the  refrain  very  like  the  former  com- 
panion phrase  that  somehow  leads  or  grows  to  a 

Tranquillo 

(Oboe,  with  other  wood) ,  , 


(Strings  with  higher  E) 

rhythmic  verse  of  the  first  strain  of  the  rhapsody. 
Here  begins  a  long  mystic  phase  of  straying  voices 
(of  the  wood)  in  the  crossing  figures  of  the  song,  in 
continuous  fantasy  that  somehow  has  merged  into  the 
line  of  second  Allegro  theme,  winging  towards  a  bril- 
liant height  where  the  strings  ring  out  the  strain  amid 
sharp  cries  of  the  brass  in  startling  hues  of  harmony 
and  electric  calls  from  the  first  rhapsody. 

From  out  the  maze  and  turmoil  the  shadowy  mel- 
ody rises  in  appealing  beauty  like  heavenly  vision 
and  lo !  is  but  a  guise  of  the  first  strain  of  rhapsody. 
It  rises  amid  flashes  of  fiery  brass  in  bewildering 
blare  of  main  theme,  then  sinks  again  to  the  depth 
182 


A  FINNISH  SYMPHONY 

of  brooding,  though  the  revery  of  the  appealing 
phrase  has  a  climactic  height  of  its  own,  with  the 
strange,  palpitating  harmonies. 

In  a  new  meditation  on  bits  of  the  first  Allegro 
theme  sounds  suddenly  a  fitful  burst  of  the  second, 
that  presently  emerges  in  triumphant,  sovereign  song. 
Again,  0.11  a  series  of  flights  the  main  theme  is 
reached  and  leaps  once  more  to  impassioned  height. 

But  this  is  followed  by  a  still  greater  climax  of 
moving  pathos  whence  we  descend  once  more  to  lyric 
meditation  (over  trembling  strings).  Follows  a  final 
tempest  and  climax  of  the  phrase  of  second  theme. 

The  movement  thus  ends,  not  in  joyous  exultation, 
but  in  a  fierce  triumph  of  sombre  minor. 

The  Andante  is  purest  folk-melody,  and  it  is 
strange  how  we  know  this,  though  we  do  not  know  the 
special  theme.  We  cannot  decry  the  race-element  as  a 
rich  fount  of  melody.  While  older  nations  strive 
and  strain,  it  pours  forth  by  some  mystenr  in  prodi- 
gal flow  with  less  tutored  peoples  who  are  singing 
their  first  big  song  to  the  world.  Only,  the  ultimate 
goal  for  each  racial  inspiration  must  be  a  greater 
universal  celebration. 

The  lyric  mood  is  regnant  here,  in  a  melody  that, 
springing  from  distant  soil,  speaks  straight  to  every 
heart,  above  all  with  the  concluding  refrain.  It  is  of 
the  purest  vein,  of  the  primal  fount,  deeper  than 
mere  racial  turn  or  trait.  Moreover,  with  a  whole 
coronet  of  gems  of  modern  harmony,  it  has  a  broad 
swing  and  curve  that  gives  the  soothing  sense  of  fire- 
183 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Andante  ma  non  troppo  lento 
(Muted  violins) 


— i — — H 1 — « — i^-H 


(Sustained  horns  and  basses  with 
lower  8ve.  ;  constant  stroke  of  harp) 


(Clarinets) 


side;  it  bears  a  burden  of  elemental,  all-contenting 
emotion.  In  the  main,  the  whole  movement  is  one 
lyric  flight.  But  there  come  the  moods  of  musing 
and  rhapsodic  rapture.  In  a  brief  fugal  vein  is  a 
mystic  harking  back  to  the  earlier  prelude.  In  these 
lesser  phrases  are  the  foil  or  counter-figures  for  the 
bursts  of  the  melody. 

It  is  the  first  motive  of  the  main  tune  that  is  the 
refrain  in  ever  higher  and  more  fervent  exclama- 
tion, or  in  close  pressing  chase  of  voices.  Then 
follows  a  melting  episode, — some  golden  piece  of  the 
melody  in  plaintive  cellos,  'neath  tremulous  wood  or 
delicate  choirs  of  strings. 

But  there  is  a  second  tune,  hardly  less  moving, 
184 


A  FINNISH  SYMPHONY 

in  dulcet  group  of  horns  amid  shimmering  strings 
and  harp,  with  a  light  bucolic  answer  in  playful  reed. 


^ 


~ 


And  it  has  a  glowing  climax,  too,  with  fiery  trumpet, 
and  dashing  strings  and  clashing  wood. 

Gorgeous  in  the  warm  depth  of  horns  sound  now 
the  returning  tones  of  the  first  noble  melody,  with 
playful  trill  of  the  wood,  in  antiphonal  song  of  trum- 
pets and  strings.  And  there  are  revels  of  new  turns 
of  the  tune  (where  the  stirring  harmony  seems  the 
best  of  all)  that  will  rise  to  a  frenzy  of  tintinnabula- 
tion. A  quicker  countertheme  lends  life  and  motion 
to  all  this  play  and  plot. 

A  big,   solemn   stride   of  the  middle   strain    (of 
main  melody)  precedes  the  last  returning  verse,  with 
all  the  tender  pathos  of  the  beginning. 
185 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEAN  I  NCI 


The  Scherzo  is  wild  race-feeling  let  loose — national 
music  that  has  not  yet  found  a  melody.  Significantly 
the  drums  begin  the  tune,  to  a  dancing  strain  of 
pizzicato  strings.  The  tune  is  so  elemental  that  the 


(Violins) 
Allegro^       J_       J_ 


JBJ, 


r         i     r  r 

(I'i.z.  cellos  doubled  above  in  violas) 

drums  can  really  play  it;  the  answer  is  equally  rude. 
— an  arpeggic  motive  of  strings  against  quick  runs 
of  the  higher  wood.  Out  of  it  grows  a  tinge  of  tune 
with  a  fresh  spring  of  dance, — whence  returns  the 
first  savage  motive.  This  is  suddenly  changed  to  the 
guise  of  a  fugal  theme,  with  new  close,  that  starts 
a  maze  of  disputation. 

Ilight  from  the  full  iire  of  the  rough  dan<r,  sad- 
stressed  chords  plunge  into  a  moving  plaint  with 
much  sweetness  of  melody  and  higher  counter-melody. 
Theii  returns  again  the  original  wild  rhythm. 

Lento  ma  non  troppo 


!.  : 


\  I 


gp       p 

r  r  r 


A  FINNISH  SYMPHONY 

In  the  last  movement  the  composer  confesses  the 
"Fantasy"  in  the  title.  It  begins  with  a  broad 
sweep  of  the  returning  rhapsody,  the  prologue  of  the 
symphony,  though  without  the  former  conclusion. 
Now  it  sings  in  a  strong  unison  of  the  strings  larga- 
inente  ed  appassionato,  and  with  clang  of  chord  in 
lower  bra^s.  The  appealing  middle  phrase  is  all  dis- 
guised in  strum  as  of  dance.  The  various  strains 
sing  freely  in  thirds,  with  sharp  punctuating  chords. 
Throughout  is  a  balance  of  the  pungent  vigor  of  har- 
monies with  dulcet  melody. 

In  sudden  rapid  pace  the  strumming  figure  dances 
in  the  lower  reed,  then  yields  to  the  play  (in  the 
strings)  of  a  lively  (almost  comic)  tune  of  a  strong 
national  tinge, — a  kind  that  seems  native  to  northern 
countries  and  is  not  unlike  a  strain  that  crept  into 

Allegro  molto 


American  song.  A  tempest  of  pranks  is  suddenly 
halted  before  the  entrance  of  a  broad  melody,  with 
underlying  harmonies  of  latent  passion.  The  feeling 
of  fantasy  is  in  the  further  flow,  with  free  singing 
chords  of  harp.  But  ever  between  the  lines  creeps 
in  the  strumming  phrase,  from  the  first  prelude, 
returned  to  its  earlier  mood. 
187 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Andante  assai 
(Violins)  cantabile  ed  espressivo 


(Horns) 
(Sfri 


tiunmj  |  .          .  

±b"       iiU   :        la    tV,__ L,-^— 


3,with      r    T     T" 

lower  C  in  basses) 

With  baffling  mystery  anon  come  other  appealing 
phrases  from  the  beginning,  that  show  the  whole  to  be 
the  woof  almost  of  a  single  figure,  or  at  least  to  lie 
within  the  poetic  scope  of  the  prologue.  A  fugal 
revel  of  the  comic  phrase  with  the  quick  strum  as 
counter-theme  ends  in  a  new  carnival, — here  a  dashing 
march,  there  a  mad  chase  of  strident  harmonies. 
Now  sings  the  full  romance  and  passion  of  the  melody 
through  the  whole  gamut  from  pathos  to  rapture. 
It  ends  with  poignant  stress  of  the  essence  of  the  song, 
with  sheerest  grating  of  straining  harmonies.  In  the 
midst,  too,  is  again  the  mystic  symbol  from  the  heart 
of  the  prelude.  Then  with  a  springing  recoil  comes 
a  last  jubilation,  though  still  in  the  prevailing  minor, 
with  a  final  coursing  of  the  quick  theme. 

The  whole  is  a  broad  alternation  of  moods,  of  wild 
abandon  and  of  tender  feeling, — the  natural  dual 
quality  of  primal  music.  So,  at  least  in  the  Finale, 
this  is  a  Finnish  fantasy,  on  the  very  lines  of  other 
national  rhapsody. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
BOHEMIAN  SYMPHONIES 

IN"  the  music  of  modern  Bohemia  is  one  of  the  most 
vital  utterances  of  the  folk-spirit.  The  critic 
may  not  force  a  correspondence  of  politics  and  art 
to  support  his  theory.  Yet  a  cause  may  here  be  found 
as  in  Kussia  and  Finland.  (Poland  and  Hungary  had 
their  earlier  song).  There  is  a  sincerity,  an  unpre- 
meditated quality  in  Bohemian  music  that  is  not 
found  among  its  western  neighbors.  The  spirit  is  its 
own  best  proof,  without  a  conscious  stress  of  a 
national  note.  Indeed,  Bohemian  music  is  striking, 
not  at  all  in  a  separate  tonal  character,  like  Hun- 
garian, but  rather  in  a  subtle  emotional  intensity, 
which  again  differs  from  the  wild  abandon  of  the 
Magyars.  An  expression  it  must  be  of  a  national 
feeling  that  has  for  ages  been  struggling  against 
absorption.  Since  ancient  times  Bohemia  has  been  part 
of  a  Teutonic  empire.  The  story  of  its  purely  native 
kings  is  not  much  more  than  legendary.  Nor  has  it 
fhared  the  harder  fate  of  other  small  nations ;  for  the 
Teuton  rule  at  least  respected  its  separate  unity. 

But  the  long  association  with  the  German  people 

has  nearly  worn  away  the  racial  signs  and  hall-marks 

of  its  folk-song.    A  Bohemian  tune  thus  has  a  taste 

much  like  the  native  German.    Yet  a  quality  of  its 

189 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

own  lies  in  the  emotional  vitality,  shown  in  a  school 
of  national  drama  and,  of  late,  in  symphony.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  seek  in  this  modern  culmination  a 
correspondence  with  an  impending  danger  of  political 
suppression.  Art  does  not  follow  history  with  so 
instant  a  reflection. 

The  intensity  of  this  national  feeling  appears 
when  Smetana  himself,  the  minstrel  of  the  people, 
is  charged  at  home  with  yielding  to  the  foreign  in- 
fluence. Here  again  is  the  hardship  of  the  true 
national  poet  who  feels  that  for  the  best  utterance 
of  his  message  he  needs  the  grounding  upon  a  broader 
art;  here  is  the  narrow  Chauvinism  that  has  confined 
the  music  of  many  lands  within  the  primitive  forms. 

Two  types  we  have  in  Bohemian  music  of  later 
times:  one,  Smetana,  of  pure  national  celebration; 
a  Second,  Dvorak,  who  with  a  profound  absorption 
of  the  German  masters,  never  escaped  the  thrall 
of  the  folk-element  and  theme. 

8METAXA.     SYAIPHOMV  POEM,   "THE   MOLDAU 
RIVER  "  * 

Simplicity  is  uppermost  in  these  scores;  yet  the 
true  essence  is  almost  hidden  to  the  mere  reader. 
With  all  primitive  quality  they  are  more  difficult 
than  many  a  classic  symphony.  The  latent  charm  of 

*  Friedrich    Smetana,    1824-1884,    foremost   among   Bo- 
hemian  dramatic   composers,   wrote   a   cycle  of   symphonic 
poems  under  the  general   title  "  My   Country."     Of   these 
the  present  work  is  the  second. 
190 


BOHEMIAN  SYMPHONIES 

folk  humor  and  sentiment  depends  more  on  tradition 
and  sympathy  than  on  notation. 

The  naively  graphic  impulse  (that  we  find 
throughout  the  choral  works  of  Bach)  that  merely 
starts  a  chance  themal  line,  as  here  of  the  first 
branch  of  the  Moldan,  does  not  disturb  the  emotional 
expression.  And  while  the  feeling  is  sustained,  the 
art  is  there,  not  to  stifle  but  to  utter  and  set  free 
the  native  spring  of  song. 

It  must  be  yielded  that  the  design  is  not  profound ; 
it  smacks  of  the  village  fair  rather  than  of  grand 
tragedy.  Song  is  ever  supreme,  and  with  all  abund- 
ance of  contrapuntal  art  does  not  become  sophisti- 
cated. The  charm  is  not  of  complexity,  but  of  a 
more  child-like,  sensuous  kind. 

It  must  all  be  approached  in  a  different  way  from 
other  symphonic  music.  The  minstrel  is  not  even 
the  peasant  in  court  costume,  as  Dvorak  once  was 
called.  He  is  the  peasant  in  his  own  village  dress, 
resplendent  with  color  and  proud  of  his  rank. 

We  cannot  enjoy  the  music  with  furrowed  brow. 
It  is  a  case  where  music  touches  Mother  Earth  and 
rejuvenates  herself.  Like  fairy  lore  and  proverbs, 
it?  virtue  lies  in  some  other  element  than  profound 
design.  For  any  form  of  song  or  verse  that  enshrines 
the  spirit  of  a  people  and  is  tried  in  the  forge  of  ages 
of  tradition,  lives  on  more  surely  than  the  fairest  art 
of  individual  poet. 

The  stream  is  the  great  figure,  rising  from  small 
sources  in  playful  flutes,  with  light  spray  of  harp  and 
191 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Allfgro  commodo 
non  agitato 

Hi 


f)    lusingnndn 

(Flute  with  chord  of  pizz.  stricgr) 

strings.  The  first  brook  is  joined  by  another  (in 
clarinets)  from  a  new  direction.  Soon  grows  the 
number  and  the  rustle  of  confluent  waters.  The 
motion  of  the  strings  is  wavelike,  of  a  broader  flow, 
though  underneath  we  scan  the  several  lesser  currents. 
Above  floats  now  the  simple,  happy  song,  that  expands 


ftdolce 

I' 


£'... 


(Reeds  and  horns  with  waving 
strings  and  stroke  of  triangle ) 

with  the  stream  and  at  last  reaches  a  glad,  sunny 
major. 

Still  to  the  sound  of  flowing  waters  comes  the  forest 
hunt,  with  all  the  sport  of  trumpets  and  other  brass. 

It  is  descriptive  music,  tonal  painting  if  you  will ; 

but  the  color  is  local  or  national.    The  strokes  are  not 

so  much  of  events  or  scenes  as  of  a  popular  humor 

and  character,  which  we  must  feel  with  small  stress 

192 


BOHEMIAN  SYMPHONIES 

of  each  event.  The  blowing  of  trumpets,  the  purling 
of  streams,  the  swaying  of  trees,  in  primal  figures,  all 
breathe  the  spirit  of  Bohemia. 

The  hunt  dies  away ;  emerging  from  the  forest  the 
jolly  sounds  greet  us  of  a  peasant  wedding.     The 


Tempo  moderate 


u  -  "Lr~a 

(Reeds  and  strings) 

parade  reaches  the  church  in  high  festivity  and  slowly 
vanishes  to  tinkling  bells. 

Night  has  fallen;  in  shifted  scene  the  stream  is 
sparkling  in  the  moonlight  still  to  the  quiet  sweet 
harmonies.  But  this  is  all  background  for  a  dance 
of  nymphs.,  while  a  dulcet,  sustained  song  sounds 
through  the  night.  At  last,  to  the  golden  horns  a 
faintest  harmony  is  added  of  deeper  brass.  Still 
very  softly,  the  brass  strike  a  quicker  phrase  and  we 
seem  to  hear  the  hushed  chorus  of  hunt  with  the  call 
of  trumpets,  as  the  other  brass  lead  in  a  new  verse 
that  grows  lustier  with  the  livelier  song  and  dance, 
till — with  a  flash  we  are  alone  with  the  running 
stream  with  which  the  dance  of  nymphs  has  some- 
how merged. 

13  193 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

On  it  goes,  in  happy,  ever  more  masterful  course, 
a  symbol  of  the  nation's  career,  surging  in  bright 
major  and  for  a  moment  quieting  before  the  mighty 
Rapids  of  St.  Johann.  Here  the  song  of  the  stream 
is  nearly  lost  in  the  rush  of  eddies  and  the  strife  of 
big  currents,  with  the  high  leaps  of  dashing  spray, — 
ever  recurring  like  unceasing  battle  with  a  towering 
clash  at  the  height  of  the  tempest.  At  last  all  meet 
in  overpowering  united  torrent,  suddenly  to  hush 
before  the  stream,  at  the  broadest,  rushes  majestically 
along  in  hymnal  song  of  exalted  harmonies  and 
triumphant  melody,  with  joyous  after-strains. 

As  the  pilgrim  to  his  Mecca,  so  the  waters  are 
wafted  into  the  climactic  motive  of  the  Hradschin. 
the  chant  of  the  holy  citadel.  The  rest  is  a  long  jubila- 


Motiv  Vyatrad 


(Full  orchestra,  with 
rapid  figures  in  the  strings) 

tion  on  quicker  beats  of  the  chant,  amid  the  plash 
of    waters     and     the    shaking    of     martial     bra.-s. 
Strangely,  as  the  other  sounds  die  away,  the  melody 
of  the  stream  emerges  clear  and  strong,  then  vanishes 
in  the  distance  before  the  jubilant  Amen. 
In  the  general  view  we  must  feel  a  wonderful  con» 
194 


BOHEMIAN  SYMPHONIES 

trast  here  with  the  sophomoric  state  of  the  contem- 
porary art  in  other  lands  where  the  folk-song  has 
lost  its  savor, — where  the  natural  soil  is  exhausted 
and  elegant  castles  are  built  in  the  air  of  empty 
fantasy,  or  on  the  sands  of  a  vain  national  pride. 

DVORAK.  STMPHOyY,  "  FROM  THE  NEW  WORLD."  * 

It  is  a  much-discussed  question  how  far  Dvorak's 
American  symphony  is  based  on  characteristic  folk- 
song. Here  are  included  other  questions :  to  what 
extent  the  themes  are  based  on  an  African  type,  and 
whether  negro  music  is  fairly  American  folk-song. 
Many,  perhaps  most  people,  will  answer  with  a  gen- 
eral negative.  But  it  seems  to  be  true  that  many  of 
us  do  not  really  know  the  true  negro  song, — have 
quite  a  wrong  idea  of  it. 

To  be  sure,  all  argument  aside,  it  is  a  mistake  to 
think  that  folk-song  gets  its  virtue  purely  from  a 
distinctive  national  quality, — because  it  is  Hungar- 
ian, Scandinavian,  or  Slavonic.  If  all  the  national 
modes  and  rhythms  of  the  world  were  merged  in  one 
republic,  there  would  still  be  a  folk-song  of  the  true 
type  and  value.  There  is  a  subtle  charm  and  strength 
in  the  spontaneous  simplicity,  all  aside  from  racial 
color.  It  is  here  that,  like  Antseus,  the  musician 
touches  Mother  Earth  and  renews  his  strength.  So, 
when  Dvorak  suddenly  shifts  in  the  midst  of  his 
New  World  fantasy  into  a  touch  of  Bohemian  song, 
there  is  no  real  loss.  It  is  all  relevant  in  the  broad 

*  Anton   DvCrak,    1841-1904. 
195 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

sense  of  folk  feeling,  that  does  not  look  too  closely  at 
geographical  bounds.  It  is  here  that  music,  of  all 
arts,  leads  to  a  true  state  of  equal  sympathy,  regard- 
less of  national  prejudice.  What,  therefore,  distin- 
guishes Dvorak's  symphony  may  not  be  mere  negro 
melody,  or  even  American  song,  but  a  genuine  folk- 
feeling,  in  the  widest  meaning. 

In  one  way,  Dvorak's  work  reminds  us  of  Mendels- 
sohn's Scotch  Symphony:  both  exploit  foreign 
national  melody  in  great  poetic  forms.  One  could 
write  a  Scotch  symphony  in  two  ways :  one,  in  Men- 
delssohn's, the  other  would  be  to  tell  of  the  outer 
impression  in  the  terms  of  your  own  folk-song.  That 
is  clearly  the  way  Mendelssohn  wrote  most  of  the 
Italian  Symphony, — which  stands  on  a  higher  plane 
than  the  Scotch.  For  folk-song  is  the  natural  lan- 
guage of  its  own  people.  It  is  interesting  to  see  the 
exact  type  that  each  theme  represents ;  but  it  is  not  so 
important  as  to  catch  the  distinction,  the  virtue  of 
folk-song  per  se  and  the  purely  natural  utterance  of 
one's  own.  Of  course,  every  one  writes  always  in  his 
folk-tones.  On  the  other  hand,  one  may  explore  one's 
own  special  treasures  of  native  themes,  as  Dvorak 
himself  did  so  splendidly  in  his  Slavic  Dances  and  in 
his  Legends.  So  one  must,  after  all,  take  this  grate- 
ful, fragrant  work  as  an  idea  of  what  American  com- 
posers might  do  in  full  earnest.  Dvorak  is  of  all 
later  masters  the  most  eminent  folk-musician.  He 
shows  greatest  sympathy,  freedom  and  delight  in 
revelling  among  the  simple  tones  and  rhythms  of 
popular  utterance,  rearing  on  them,  all  in  poetic 
196 


BOHEMIAN  SYMPHONIES 

spontaneity,  a  structure  of  high  art.  Without  strain 
or  show,  Dvorak  stood  perhaps  the  most  genuine  of 
late  composers,  with  a  firm  foot  on  the  soil  of  native 
melody,  yet  with  the  balance  and  restraint  and  the 
clear  vision  of  the  trained  master.* 

In  a  certain  view,  it  would  seem  that  by  the  fate  of 
servitude  the  American  negro  has  become  the  element 
in  our  own  national  life  that  alone  produces  true  folk- 
song,— 'that  corresponds  to  the  peasant  and  serf  of 
Europe,  the  class  that  must  find  in  song  the  refuge 
and  solace  for  its  loss  of  material  joys.  So  Dvorak 
perhaps  is  right,  with  a  far  seeing  eye,  when  he  singles 
the  song  of  the  despised  race  as  the  national  type. 

Another  consideration  fits  here.  It  has  been  sug- 
gested that  the  imitative  sense  of  the  negro  has  led 
him  to  absorb  elements  of  other  song.  It  is  very  diffi- 
cult to  separate  original  African  elements  of  song 
from  those  that  may  thus  have  been  borrowed.  At 
any  rate,  there  is  no  disparagement  of  the  negro's 
musical  genius  in  this  theory.  On  the  contrary,  it 
would  be  almost  impossible  to  imagine  a  musical 
people  that  would  resist  the  softer  tones  of  surround- 

*  The  whole  subject  of  American  a,nd  negro  folk-song 
is  new  and  unexplored.  There  are  races  of  the  blacks 
living  on  the  outer  reefs  and  islands  of  the  Carolinas, 
with  not  more  than  thirty  whites  in  a  population  of  six 
thousand,  where  "  spirituals  "  and  other  musical  rites  are 
held  which  none  but  negroes  may  attend.  The  truest 
African  mode  and  rhythm  would  seem  to  be  preserved 
here;  to  tell  the  truth,  there  is  great  danger  of  their  loss 
unless  they  are  soon  recorded. 
197 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

ing  and  intermingling  races.  We  know,  to  be  sure, 
that  Stephen  Foster,  the  author  of  "  The  Old  Folks 
at  Home,"  "  Massa's  in  the  Cold,  Cold  Ground,"  and 
other  famous  ballads,  was  a  Northerner,  though  his 
mother  came  from  the  South.  We  hear,  too,  that  he 
.studied  negro  music  eagerly.  It  is  not  at  all  incon- 
ceivable, however,  Foster's  song  may  have  been  devoid 
of  negro  elements,  that  the  colored  race  absorbed,  wit- 
tingly or  unwittingly,  something  of  the  vein  into 
their  plaints  or  lullabies, — that,  indeed,  Foster's 
songs  may  have  been  a  true  type  that  stirred  their 
own  imitation.  From  all  points  of  view, — the  con- 
dition of  slavery,  the  trait  of  assimilation  and  the 
strong  gift  of  musical  expression  may  have  con- 
spired to  give  the  negro  a  position  and  equipment 
which  would  entitle  his  tunes  to  stand  as  the  real 
folk-song  of  America. 

The  eccentric  accent  seems  to  have  struck  the  com- 
poser strongly.  And  here  is  a  strange  similarity 
with  Hungarian  song, — though  there  is,  of  course, 
no  kinship  of  race  whatever  between  Bohemians  and 
Magyars.  One  might  be  persuaded  to  find  here 
simply  an  ebullition  of  rhythmic  impulse, — the  de- 
sire for  a  special  fillip  that  starts  and  suggests  a 
stronger  energy  of  motion  than  the  usual  conven- 
tional pace.  At  any  rate,  the  symphony  begins  with 
just  such  strong,  nervous  phrases  that  soon  gather 
big  force.  Hidden  is  the  germ  of  the  first,  un- 
doubtedly the  chief  theme  of  the  whole  work. 

It  is  more  and  more  remarkable  how  a  search  will 
show  the  true  foundation  of  almost  all  of  Dvorak's 
198 


BOHEMIAN  SYMPHONIES 

themes.  Not  that  one  of  them  is  actually  borrowed, 
or  lacks  an  original,  independent  reason  for  being. 

Whether  by  imitation  or  not,  the  pentatonic  scale 
of  the  Scotch  is  an  intimate  part  of  negro  song.  This 
avoidance  of  the  seventh  or  leading  tone  is  seen 
throughout  the  symphony  as  well  as  in  the  traditional 
jubilee  tunes.  It  may  be  that  this  trait  was  merely 
confirmed  in  the  African  by  foreign  musical  influence. 
For  it  seems  that  the  leading-note,  the  urgent  need 
for  the  ascending  half-tone  in  closing,  belongs  orig- 
inally to  the  minstrelsy  of  the  Teuton  and  of  central 
Europe,  that  resisted  and  conquered  the  sterner 
modes  of  the  early  Church.  Ruder  nations  here 
agreed  with  Catholic  ritual  in  preferring  the  larger 
interval  of  the  whole  tone.  But  in  the  quaint  jump 
of  the  third  the  Church  had  no  part,  clinging  closely 
to  a  diatonic  process. 

The  five-toned  scale  is  indeed  so  widespread  that  it 
cannot  be  fastened  on  any  one  race  or  even  family  of 
nations.  The  Scotch  have  it;  it  is  characteristic  of 
the  Chinese  and  of  the  American  Indian.  But,  inde- 
pendently of  the  basic  mode  or  scale,  negro  songs 
show  here  and  there  a  strange  feeling  for  a  savage 
kind  of  lowering  of  this  last  note.  The  pentatonic 
scale  simply  omits  it,  as  well  as  the  fourth  step. 
But  the  African  will  now  and  then  rudely  and  forci- 
bly lower  it  by  a  half-tone.  In  the  minor  it  is  more 
natural;  for  it  can  then  be  thought  of  as  the  fifth 
of  the  relative  major.  Moreover,  it  is  familiar  to  us 
in  the  Church  chant.  This  effect  we  have  in  the 
beginning  of  the  Scherzo.  Many  of  us  do  not  know 
199 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


the  true  African  manner,  here.  But  in  the  major  it 
is  much  more  barbarous.  And  it  is  almost  a  pity  that 
Dvorak  did  not  strike  it  beyond  an  occasional  touch 
(as  in  the  second  quoted  melody).  A  fine  example 
\B  "Roll,  Jordan  Roll,"  in  E  flat  (that  opens,  by 
the  way,  much  like  Dvorak's  first  theme),  where  the 
beginning  of  the  second  line  rings  out  an  a  savage 
D  flat,  out  of  all  key  to  Caucasian  ears. 

We  soon  see  stealing  out  of  the  beginning  Adagio 
an  eccentric  pace  in  motion  of  the  bass,  that  leads  to 
the  burst  of  main  subject,  Allegro  molto,  with  a  cer- 


l^izz.  (Strings) 

(Clarinets  doubled 
below  in  bassoons) 


;* 


BOHEMIAN  SYMPHONIES 


tain  ragged  rhythm  that  we  Americans  cannot  dis- 
claim as  a  nation.  The  working  up  is  spirited,  and 
presently  out  of  the  answer  grows  a  charming  jingle 
that  somehow  strikes  home. 


f)f)f)  (Violins,  with  harmony  in  lower  strings) 

It  begins  in  the  minor  and  has  a  strange,  barbaric 
touch  of  cadence.  Many  would  acknowledge  it  at 
most  as  a  touch  of  Indian  mode.  Yet  it  is  another 
phase  of  the  lowered  seventh.  And  if  we  care  to 
search,  we  find  quite  a  prototype  in  a  song  like 
"  Didn't  My  Lord  Deliver  Daniel."  Soon  the  phrase 
has  a  more  familiar  ring  as  it  turns  into  a  friendly 
major.  But  the  real  second  theme  comes  in  a  solo 
tune  on  the  flute,  in  the  major, 


(Solo  flute) 


(Strings) 

with  a  gait  something  like  the  first.*     Less  and  less 
we  can  resist  the  genuine  negro  quality  of  these  melo- 


*  Again  it  is  interesting  to  compare  here  the  jubilee  song. 
"Oh!   Redeemed,"  in  the  collection  of  "Jubilee  and  Plan- 
tation Songs,"  of  the  Oliver  Ditson  Company. 
201 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

dies,  and,  at  the  same  time,  their  beauty  and  tho 
value  of  the  tonal  treasure-house  in  our  midst. 

The  whole  of  the  first  Allegro  is  thus  woven  of 
three  melodious  and  characteristic  themes  in  very 
clear  sonata-form.  The  second,  Largo,  movement  is 
a  lyric  of  moving  pathos,  with  a  central  melody  that 
may  not  have  striking  traits  of  strict  African  sang, 
and  yet  belongs  to  the  type  closely  associated  with 
the  negro  vein  of  plaint  or  love-song.  The  rhythmic 

i   *-* 


— *T_     **4i4'*     •>r*T     J*-*i  **S*.+&J 


(English  horn  solo) 

turns  that  lead  to  periods  of  excitement  and  climaxes 
of  rapid  motion,  are  absent  in  the  main  melody.  But 
( Oboe  &nd  clarinets ) 

:»: 


- 

( Basses  pizz.  with  tremolo  figures  in  violins) 


202 


BOHEMIAN  SYMPHONIES 

they  appear  in  the  episode  that  intervenes.  Even 
here,  in  the  midst,  is  a  new  contrast  of  a  minor 
lament  that  has  a  strong  racial  trait  in  the  sudden 
swing  to  major  and,  as  quickly,  back  to  the  drearier 
mode.  This  is  followed  by  a  rhapsody  or  succession 
of  rapid,  primitive  phrases,  that  leads  to  a  crisis 
where,  of  a  sudden,  three  themes  sing  at  once,  the 
two  of  the  previous  Allegro  and  the  main  melody  of 
the  Largo,  in  distorted  pace  with  full  chorus.  This 
excitement  is  as  suddenly  lulled  and  soothed  by  the 
return  of  the  original  moving  song. 

The  Scherzo  starts  in  a  quick  three-beat  strum  on 
the  chord  we  have  pointed  to  as  a  true  model  trait  of 
negro  music,  with  the  lowered  leading-note.  The 

molto  vivace  (Fl.  and  oboes) 
PPP  (Strings) 


theme,  discussed  in  close  stress  of  imitation,  seems 
merely  to  mark  the  rapid  swing  in  the  drone  of 
strange  harmony.  But  what  is  really  a  sort  of  Trio 
(poco  sostenuto)  is  another  sudden,  grateful  change 
to  major,  perfectly  true  to  life,  so  to  speak,  in  this 
turn  of  mode  and  in  the  simple  lines  of  the  tune. 
The  lyric  mood  all  but  suppresses  the  dance,  the 
203 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

melody  sounding  like  a  new  verse  of  the  Largo.  The 
trip  has  always  lingered,  but  not  too  much  for  the 
delicious  change  when  it  returns  to  carry  us  off  our 
feet. 

The  Scherzo  now  steals  in  again,  quite  a  piece,  it 
seems,  with  the  Trio.  As  the  rising  volume  nears  a 
crisis,  the  earliest  theme  (from  the  first  Allegro)  is 
heard  in  the  basses.  In  the  hushed  discourse  of 
Scherzo  theme  that  follows,  the  old  melody  still 
intrudes.  In  mockery  of  one  of  its  turns  comes  an 
enchanting  bit  of  tune,  as  naive  an  utterance  as  any, 
much  like  a  children's  dancing  song.  And  it  re- 
turns later  with  still  new  enchantment  of  rhythm. 
But  the  whole  is  too  full  of  folk-melody  to  trace  out, 
yet  is,  in  its  very  fibre,  true  to  the  idea  of  an  epic 
of  the  people. 

Presently  the  whole  Scherzo  and  Trio  are  re- 
hearsed ;  but  now  instead  of  the  phase  of  latest  melo- 
dies is  a  close  where  the  oldest  theme  (of  Allegro) 
is  sung  in  lusty  blasts  of  the  horns  and  wood,  with 
answers  of  the  Scherzo  motive. 

In  the  last  movement,  Allegro  con  fuoco,  appears 
early  a  new  kind  of  march  tune  that,  without  special 

Allegro  con  fuoco 

ff  (Horns  and  trumpets  ~*~ 

with  full  orchestra) 

trick  of  rhythm,  has  the  harsh  note  of  lowered  lead- 
ing-note  (in  the  minor,  to  be  sure)   in  very  true 
204 


BOHEMIAN  SYMPHONIES 

keeping  with  negro  song.  The  march  is  carried  on, 
with  flowing  answer,  to  a  high  pitch  of  varied  splen- 
dor and  tonal  power.  The  second  theme  is  utterly 
opposed  in  a  certain  pathetic  rhapsody.  Yet  it  rises, 
at  the  close,  to  a  fervent  burst  in  rapid  motion.  We 


(Solo  clarinets) 
I      / 


may  expect  in  the  Finale  an  orgy  of  folk-tune  and 
dance,  and  we  are  not  disappointed.  There  is,  too, 
a  quick  rise  and  fall  of  mood,  that  is  a  mark  of  the 
negro  as  well  as  of  the  Hungarian.  By  a  sudden 
doubling,  we  are  in  the  midst  of  a  true  "  hoe-down/' 
in  jolliest  jingle,  with  that  nai've  iteration,  true  to 
life;  it  comes  out  clearest  when  the  tune  of  the  bass 
(that  sounds  like  a  rapid  "Three  Blind  Mice")  is 
205 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 
(Strings,  wood  and  brass) 


3^-4-^r- 


l£*JL 


(See  page  205,  line  0.) 

put  in  the  treble.  A  pure  idealized  negro  dance-frolie 
is  here.  It  is  hard  to  follow  all  the  pranks:  lightly 
as  the  latest  phrase  descends  in  extending  melody, 
a  rude  blast  of  the  march  intrudes  in  discordant 
humor.  A  new  jingle  of  dance  comes  with  a  re- 
doubled pace  of  bits  of  the  march.  As  this  dies  down 
to  dimmest  bass,  the  old  song  from  the  Largo  rings 
high  in  the  wood.  Strangest  of  all,  in  a  fierce  shout 
of  the  whole  chorus  sounds  twice  this  same  pathetic 
strain.  Later  comes  a  redoubled  speed  of  the  march 
in  the  woodwind,  above  a  slower  in  low  strings.  Now 
the  original  theme  of  all  has  a  noisy  say.  Presently 
the  sad  second  melody  has  a  full  verse.  Once  more 
206 


BOHEMIAN  SYMPHONIES 

the  Largo  lullaby  sings  its  strain  in  the  minor.  ID 
the  close  the  original  Allegro  theme  has  a  literal, 
vigorous  dispute  with  the  march-phrase  for  the  last 
word  of  all. 

The  work  does  less  to  exploit  American  music  than 
to  show  a  certain  community  in  all  true  folk-song. 
Nor  is  this  to  deny  a  strain  peculiar  to  the  new 
world.  It  seems  a  poet  of  distant  land  at  the  same- 
time  and  in  the  same  tones  uttered  his  longing  for 
his  own  country  and  expressed  the  pathos  and  the 
romance  of  the  new.  Dvorak,  like  all  true  workers, 
did  more  than  he  thought :  he  taught  Americans  not 
so  much  the  power  of  a  song  of  their  own,  as  their 
right  of  heritage  in  all  folk-music.  And  this  is  based 
not  merely  on  an  actual  physical  inheritance  from 
the  various  older  races. 

If  the  matter,  in  Dvorak's  symphony,  is  of  Ameri- 
can negro-song,  the  manner  is  Bohemian.  A 
stranger-poet  may  light  more  clearly  upon  the  traits 
of  a  foreign  lore.  But  his  celebration  will  be  more 
conscious  if  he  endeavor  to  cling  throughout  to  the 
special  dialect.  A  true  national  expression  will  come 
from  the  particular  soil  and  will  be  unconscious  of  its 
own  idiom. 

The  permanent  hold  that  Dvorak's  symphony  has 
gained  is  due  to  an  intrinsic  merit  of  art  and  sincere 
sentiment;  it  has  little  to  do  with  the  nominal  title 
or  purpose. 

207 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  EAKLIER  BRUCKNER* 

WHATEVER  be  the  final  answer  of  the  mooted 
question  of  the  greatness  of  Bruckner's 
symphonies,  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  had  his 
full  share  of  technical  profundity,  and  a  strik- 
ing mastery  of  the  melodious  weaving  of  a  maze 
of  concordant  strains.  The  question  inevitably  arises 
with  Bruckner  as  to  the  value  of  the  world's  judg- 
ments on  its  contemporary  poets.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  furore  of  the  musical  public  tends  to 
settle  on  one  or  two  favorites  with  a  concentration 
of  praise  that  ignores  the  work  of  others,  though 
it  be  of  a  finer  grain.  Thus  Schubert's  greatest — 
his  one  completed — symphony  was  never  acclaimed 
until  ten  years  after  his  death.  Even  his  songs 
somehow  brought  more  glory  to  the  singer  than  to 
the  composer.  Bach's  oratorios  lay  buried  for  a 
full  century.  On  the  other  hand,  names  great 
in  their  day  are  utterly  lost  from  the  horizon.  It  is 
hard  to  conceive  the  eclat  of  a  Buononcini  or  a 
Monteverde, — whose  works  were  once  preeminent. 
There  are  elements  in  art,  of  special,  sensational 
effect,  that  make  a  peculiar  appeal  in  their  time,  and 
are  incompatible  with  true  and  permanent  great- 

*  Anton   Bruckner,   born   at   Annsfelden,   Austria,    1828; 
died  in  Vienna  in  1896. 

208 


THE  EARLIER  BRUCKNER 

ness.  One  is  tempted  to  say,  the  more  sudden  and 
vehement  the  success,  the  less  it  will  endure.  But  it 
would  not  be  true.  Such  an  axiom  would  condemn 
an  opera  like  "  Don  Giovanni/'  an  oratorio  like  the 
"  Creation/'  a  symphony  like  Beethoven's  Seventh. 
There  is  a  wonderful  difference,  an  immeasurable 
gulf  between  the  good  and  the  bad  in  art;  yet  the 
apparent  line  is  of  the  subtlest.  Most  street  songs 
may  be  poor;  but  some  are  undoubtedly  beautiful  in 
a  very  high  sense.  It  is  a  problem  of  mystic  fascina- 
tion, this  question  of  the  value  of  contemporary  art. 
It  makes  its  appeal  to  the  subjective  view  of  each 
listener.  No  rule  applies.  Every  one  will  perceive 
in  proportion  to  his  capacity,  no  one  beyond  it.  So, 
a  profound  work  may  easily  fail  of  response,  as  many 
works  in  the  various  arts  have  done  in  the  past, 
because  the  average  calibre  of  the  audience  is  too 
shallow,  while  it  may  deeply  stir  an  intelligent  few. 
Not  the  least  strange  part  of  it  all  is  the  fact  that 
there  can,  of  necessity,  be  no  decision  in  the  lifetime 
of  the  poet.  Whether  it  is  possible  for  obscure  Mil- 
tons  never  to  find  their  meed  of  acclaim,  is  a  question 
that  we  should  all  prefer  to  answer  in  the  negative. 
There  is  a  certain  shudder  in  thinking  of  such  a 
chance ;  it  seems  a  little  akin  to  the  danger  of  being 
buried  alive. 

The  question  of  Bruckner's  place  can  hardly  be 
said  to  be  settled,  although  he  has  left  nine  sympho- 
nies.   He  certainly  shows  a  freedom,  ease  and  mastery 
in  the  symphonic  manner,  a  limpid  flow  of  melody 
14  209 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

and  a  sure  control  in  the  interweaving  of  his  themes, 
so  that,  in  the  final  verdict,  the  stress  may  come 
mainly  on  the  value  of  the  subjects,  in  themselves. 
He  is  fond  of  dual  themes,  where  the  point  lies  in 
neither  of  two  motives,  but  in  the  interplay  of  both  : 
we  see  it  somewhat  extended  in  Richard  Strauss,  who 
uses  it,  however,  in  a  very  different  spirit.  The  one 
evident  and  perhaps  fatal  lack  is  of  intrinsic  beauty 
of  the  melodic  ideas,  and  further,  aai  absence  of  the 
strain  of  pathos  that  sings  from  the  heart  of  a  true 
symphony.  While  we  are  mainly  impressed  by  the 
workmanship,  there  is  no  denying  a  special  charm  of 
constant  tuneful  flow.  At  times  this  complexity  is 
almost  marvellous  in  the  clear  simplicity  of  the  con- 
certed whole, — in  one  view,  the  main  trait  or  trick  of 
symphonic  writing.  It  is  easy  to  pick  out  the  lead- 
ing themes  as  they  appear  in  official  order.  But  it  is 
not  so  clear  which  of  them  constitute  the  true  text. 
The  multiplicity  of  tunes  and  motives  is  amazing. 

Of  the  Wagner  influence  with  which  Bruckner  is 
>ai(]  to  be  charged,  little  is  perceptible  in  his  second 
symphony.  On  the  contrary,  a  strong  academic  tra- 
dition pervades.  The  themes  are  peculiarly  sym- 
phonic. Moreover  they  show  so  strikingly  tlu>  dual 
quality  that  one  might  say,  as  a  man  may  see  double, 
Bruckner  sang  double.  Processes  of  augmenting  and 
inverting  abound,  together  with  the  themal  song  in 
the  bass.  Yet  there  is  not  the  sense  of  overloaded 
learning.  There  is  everywhere  a  clear  and  melodious 
polyphony. 

210 


THE  EARLIER  BRUCKNER 

But  with  all  master]}'  architecture,  even  enchant- 
ing changes  of  harmony  and  a  prodigal  play  of  mel- 
ody, the  vacuity  of  poetic  ideas  must  preclude  a  per- 
manent appeal.  Bruckner  is  here  the  schoolmaster: 
his  symphony  is  a  splendid  skeleton,  an  object  lesson 
for  the  future  poet. 

In  the  FOURTH  (ROMANTIC)  SYMPHONY  the  main 
light  plays  throughout  011  the  wind.  The  text  is  a 
call  of  horns,  that  begins  the  work.  It  is  a  symphony 

In  tranquil  motion 
(Horna,  espressivo)  f> 


a  f 

&— \-&— t 


*W^I     ^1      SB    ^    ^    fc^      £ 

rJn-f— ri-LJ  L  g  i  ^~ r^ 


(Strings) 

of  wood-notes,  where  the  forest-horn  is  sovereign, — 
awakening  a  widening  world  of  echoes,  with  a  mur- 
muring maze  of  lesser  notes.  One  has  again  the 
feeling  that  in  the  quiet  interweaving  of  a  tapestry 
of  strains  lies  the  individual  quality  of  the  composer, 
— that  the  forte  blasts,  the  stride  of  big  unison  figures 
are  but  the  interlude. 

In  the  Andante  the  charm  is  less  of  tune  than  of 
the  delicate  changing  shades  of  the  harmony  and 
of  the  colors  of  tone.  We  are  ever  surprised  in  the 
gentlest  way  by  a  turn  of  chord  or  by  the  mere  en- 
trance of  a  horn  among  the  whispering  strings.  The 
211 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

shock  of  a  soft  modulation  may  be  as  sudden  as  of 
the  loud,  sudden  blare.  But  we  cannot  somehow  be 
consoled  for  the  want  of  a  heart-felt  melody. 

The  Scherzo  is  a  kind 'of  hunting-piece,  full  of  the 
sparkle,  the  color  and  romance  of  bugles  and  horns, 
— a  spirited  fanfare  broken  by  hushed  phrases  of 
strings  or  wood,  or  an  elf-like  mystic  dance  on  the 
softened  call  of  trumpets.  The  Trio  sings  apart,  be- 
tween the  gay  revels,  in  soft  voices  and  slower  pace, 
like  a  simple  ballad. 

The  Finale  is  conceived  in  mystical  retrospect, 
beginning  in  vein  of  prologue :  over  mysterious  mur- 
muring strings,  long  sustained  notes  of  the  reed  and 
horn  in  octave  descent  are  mingled  with  a  soft  caril- 
lon of  horns  and  trumpets  in  the  call  of  the  Schereo. 
In  broad  swing  a  free  fantasy  rises  to  a  loud  refrain 
(in  the  brass)  of  the  first  motive  of  the  symphony. 

In  slower  pace  and  hush  of  sound  sings  a  madrigal 
of  tender  phrases.  A  pair  of  melodies  recall  like  fig- 
ures of  the  first  Allegro.  Indeed,  a  chain  of  dulcet 
strains  seems  to  rise  from  the  past. 

The  fine  themal  relevance  may  be  pursued  in 
infinite  degree,  to  no  end  but  sheer  bewildernu'ii' 
The  truth  is  that  a  modern  vanity  for  subtle  conmv 
tion,  a  purest  pedantry,  is  here  evident,  and  li;^ 
become  a  baneful  tradition  in  the  modern  symphony. 
It  is  an  utter  confusion  of  the  letter  with  the  spirit. 
Once  for  all,  a  themal  coherence  of  symphony  must 
He  in  the  main  lines,  not  in  a  maze  of  unsignificant 
figures. 

212 


THE  EARLIER  BRUCKNER 

Marked  is  a  sharp  alternation  of  mood,  tempest- 
uous and  tender,  of  Florestan  and  Eusebius.  The 
lyric  phase  yields  to  the  former  heroic  fantasy  and 
then  returns  in  soothing  solace  into  a  prevailing 
motive  that  harks  back  to  the  second  of  the  beginning 
movement.  The  fantasy,  vague  of  melody,  comes 

(Wood  and  horns) 
Con  8ve. 


(in  more  than  one  sense)  as  relief  from  the  small 
tracery.  It  is  just  to  remember  a  like  oscillation 
in  the  first  Allegro. 

When  the  prologue  recurs,  the  phrases  are  in 
ascent,  instead  of  descent  of  octaves.  A  climactic 
verse  of  the  main  dulcet  melody  breaks  out  in  reso- 
nant choir  of  brass  and  is  followed  by  a  soft  rhapsody 
on  the  several  strains  that  hark  back  to  the  begin- 
ning. From  the  halting  pace  the  lyric  episode  rises 
in  flight  of  continuous  song  to  enchanting  lilt.  Now 
in  the  big  heroic  fantasy  sing  the  first  slow  phrases 
as  to  the  manner  born  and  as  naturally  break  into  a 
pa?an  of  the  full  motive,  mingled  with  strains  of  the 
213 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

original  legend  of  the  symphony,  that  flows  oil  to 
broad  hymnal  cadence. 

In  mystic  musing  we  reach  a  solemn  stillness 
where  the  prologue  phrase  is  slowly  drawn  out  into 
a  profoundly  moving  hymn.  Here  we  must  feel  is 
Meister  Bruckner's  true  poetic  abode  rather  than  in 
the  passion  and  ecstasy  of  romance  into  which  he  was 
vainly  lured.* 

•Bruckner's  Fifth  Symphony  (in  B  flat)  is  a  typical 
example  of  closest  correlation  of  themes  that  are  devoid 
of  intrinsic  melody. 

An  introduction  supplies  in  the  bass  of  a  hymnal  line 
the  main  theme  of  the  Allegro  by  inversion  as  well  as  the 
germ  of  the  first  subject  of  the  Adagio.  Throughout,  as 
in  the  Romantic  Symphony,  the  relation  between  the  first 
and  the  last  movement  is  subtle.  A  closing,  jagged  phrase 
reappears  as  the  first  theme  of  the  Finale. 

The  Adagio  and  Scherzo  are  built  upon  the  same  figure 
of  bass.  The  theme  of  the  Trio  is  acclaimed  by  a  (Jenimn 
annotator  as  the  reverse  of  the  first  motive  of  the 
symphony. 

In  the  prelude  of  the  Finale,  much  as  in  the  Ninth  of 
Beethoven,  are  passed  in  review  the  main  themes  of  the 
earlier  movements.  Each  one  is  answered  by  an  eccentric 
phrase  that  had  its  origin  in  the  first  movement  and  is 
now  extended  to  a  fugal  theme. 

The  climactic  figure  is  a  new  hymnal  line  that  moves  oa 
central  theme  of  an  imposing  double  fugue. 


214 


CHAPTER  XV., 
THE  LATER  BRUCKNER 

IX  Bruckner's  later  works  appears  the  unique  in- 
stance of  a  discipline  grounded  in  the  best  tra- 
ditions, united  to  a  deft  use  of  ephemeral  devices. 
The  basic  cause  of  modern  mannerism,  mainly  in 
harmonic  effects,  lies  in  a  want  of  formal  mastery; 
an  impatience  of  thorough  technic;  a  craving  for 
quick  sensation.  With  Bruckner  it  was  the  opposite 
weakness  of  original  ideas,  an  organic  lack  of  poetic 
individuality.  It  is  this  the  one  charge  that  cannot 
be  brought  home  to  the  earlier  German  group  of 
reaction  against  the  classic  idea. 

There  is  melody,  almost  abundant,  in  Wagner  and 
Liszt  and  their  German  contemporaries.  Indeed  it 
was  an  age  of  lyricists.  The  fault  was  that  they 
failed  to  recognize  their  lyric  limitation,  lengthening 
and  padding  their  motives  abnormally  to  fit  a  form 
that  was  too  large.  Hence  the  symphony  of  Liszt, 
with  barren  stretches,  and  the  impossible  plan  of  the 
later  music-drama.  The  truest  form  of  such  a  period 
was  the  song,  as  it  blossomed  in  the  works  of  a 
Franz. 

Nor  has  this  grandiose  tendency  even  yet  spent 
its  course.  A  saving  element  was  the  fashioning  of 
a  new  form,  by  Liszt  himself, — the  Symphonic  Poem. 
215 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

- — far  inferior  to  the  symphony,  but  more  adequate  to 
the  special  poetic  intent. 

Whatever  be  the  truth  of  personal  gossip,  there  is 
no  doubt  that  Bruckner  lent  himself  and  his  art  to 
a  championing  of  the  reactionary  cause  in  the  form 
that  was  intrinsically  at  odds  with  its  spirit.  Hence 
in  later  works  of  Bruckner  these  strange  episodes  of 
borrowed  romance,  abruptly  stopped  by  a  firm  coun- 
terpoint of  excellent  quality, — indeed  far  the  best  of 
his  writing.  For,  if  a  man  have  little  ideas,  at  least 
his  good  workmanship  will  count  for  something. 

In  truth,  one  of  the  strangest  types  is  presented  in 
Bmckner, — a  pedant  who  by  persistent  ingenuity 
simulates  a  master-work  almost  to  perfection.  By 
so  much  as  genius  is  not  an  infinite  capacity  for 
pains,  by  so  much  is  Bruckner's  Ninth  not  a  true 
symphony.  Sometimes,  under  the  glamor  of  his 
art,  we  are  half  persuaded  that  mere  persistence 
may  transmute  pedantry  into  poetry. 

It  seems  almost  as  if  the  Wagnerians  chose  their 
champion  in  the  symphony  with  a  kind  of  suppressed 
contempt  for  learning,  associating  mere  intellectual- 
ity with  tme  mastery,  pointing  to  an  example  of 
greatest  skill  and  least  inspiration  as  if  to  say :  "  Here 
is  your  symphonist  if  you  must  have  one."  And  it 
is  difficult  to  avoid  a  suspicion  that  his  very  partisans 
were  laughing  up  their  sleeve  at  their  adopted 
champion. 

We  might  say  all  these  things,  and  perhaps  we  have 
gone  too  far  in  suggesting  them.  After  all  we  have 
216 


THE  LATER  BRUCKNER 

no  business  with  aught  but  the  music  of  Bruckner, 
whatever  may  have  been  his  musical  politics,  his 
vanity,  his  ill  judgment,  or  even  his  deliberate  par- 
tisanship against  his  betters.  But  the  ideas  them- 
selves are  unsubstantial ;  on  shadowy  foundation  they 
give  an  illusion  by  modern  touches  of  harmony  and 
rhythm  that  are  not  novel  in  themselves.  The  melo- 
dic idea  is  usually  divided  in  two,  as  by  a  clever 
juggler.  There  is  really  no  one  thought,  but  a  plenty 
of  small  ones  to  hide  the  greater  absence. 

We  have  merely  to  compare  this  artificial  manner 
with  the  poetic  reaches  of  Brahms  to  understand  the 
insolence  of  extreme  Wagnerians  and  tbe  indigna- 
tion of  a  Hanslick.  As  against  the  pedantry  of  Bruck- 
ner the  style  of  Strauss  is  almost  welcome  in  its 
frank  pursuit  of  effects  which  are  at  least  grateful 
in  themselves.  Strauss  makes  hardly  a  pretence  at 
having  melodic  ideas.  They  serve  but  as  pawns  or 
puppets  for  his  harmonic  and  orchestral  mise-en- 
scene.  He  is  like  a  play-wright  constructing  his  plot 
around  a  scenic  design. 

Just  a  little  common  sense  is  needed, — an  unpre- 
meditated attitude.  Thus  the  familiar  grouping, 
"  Bach,  Beethoven  and  Brahms,"  is  at  least  not  un- 
natural. Think  of  the  absurdity  of  "Bach,  Bee- 
thoven and  Bruckner"!* 

The  truth  is,  the  Bruckner  cult  is  a  striking  symp- 
tom of  a  certain  decadence  in  German  music-;  an 

*A  festival  was  held  in  Munich  in  the  summer  of  1911, 
in  celebration  of  "  Bach,  Beethoven  and  Bruckner." 
217 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

incapacity  to  tell  the  sincere  quality  of  feeling  in  the 
dense,  brilliant  growth  of  technical  virtuosity.  In 
the  worship  at  the  Bayreuth  shrine,  somehow  rein- 
forced by  a  modern  national  self-importance,  has 
been  lost  a  heed  for  all  but  a  certain  vein  of  exotic 
romanticism,  long  ago  run  to  riotous  seed,  a  blending 
of  hedonism  and  fatalism.  No  other  poetic  message 
gets  a  hearing  and  the  former  may  be  rung  in  end- 
less repetition  and  reminiscence,  provided,  to  be 
sure,  it  be  framed  with  brilliant  cunning  of  work- 
manship. 

Here  we  feel  driven  defiantly  to  enounce  the  truth : 
that  the  highest  art,  even  in  a  narrow  sense,  comes 
only  with  a  true  poetic  message.  Of  this  Bruckner 
is  a  proof;  for,  if  any  man  by  pure  knowledge  could 
make  a  symphony,  it  was  he.  But,  with  almost 
superhuman  skill,  there  is  something  wanting  in  the 
inner  connection,  where  the  main  ideas  are  weak, 
forced  or  borrowed.  It  is  only  the  true  poetic  rapture 
that  ensures  the  continuous  absorption  that  drive? 
in  perfect  sequence  to  irresistible  conclusion. 

STMPHoyr  m  .0 

7. — Solenne.  Solemn  mystery  is  the  mood,  amid 
trembling  strings  on  hollow  unison,  before  the  eight 


^m 


(Eight  boms  with  tremolo 
strings  on  D  in  three  octaves) 

218 


THE  LATER  BRUCKNER 

horns  strike  a  phrase  in  the  minor  chord  that  in 
higher  echoes  breaks  into  a  strange  harmony  and 
descends  into  a  turn  of  melodic  cadence.  In  answer 
is  another  chain  of  brief  phrases,  each  beginning 


(1st  violins) 


con  8va. 

(Lower  reeds  with  strings 
tremolo  in  all  but  basses) 

with  a  note  above  the  chord  (the  common  mark  and 
manner  of  the  later  school  of  harmonists*)  and  a 
new  ascent  on  a  literal  ladder  of  subtlest  progress, 
while  hollow  intervals  are  intermingled  in  the  pinch 
of  close  harmonies.  The  bewildering  maze  here  be- 
gins of  multitudinous  design,  enriched  with  modern 
devices. 

A  clash  of  all  the  instruments  acclaims  the  climax 
before  the  unison  stroke  of  fullest  chorus  on  the 
solemn  note  of  the  beginning.  A  favorite  device  of 
Bruckner,  a  measured  tread  of  pizzicato  strings  with 
interspersed  themal  motives,  precedes  the  romantic 
episode.  Throughout  the  movement  is  this  alter- 
nation of  liturgic  chorale  with  tender  melody. 

*  See  Vol.  II,  note,  page  104. 
219 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Molto  tranquillo 
(Strings)  enpressivo 


Bruckner's  pristine  polyphonic  manner  ever 
appears  in  the  double  strain  of  melodies,  where  each 
complements,  though  not  completes  the  other. 
However  multiple  the  plan,  we  cannot  feel  more  than 
the  quality  of  unusual  in  the  motives  themselves,  of 
some  interval  of  ascent  or  descent.  Yet  as  the  melody 
grows  to  larger  utterance,  the  fulness  of  polyphonic 
art  brings  a  beauty  of  tender  sentiment,  rising  to  a 
moving  climax,  where  the  horns  lead  the  song  in  the 
heart  of  the  madrigal  chorus,  and  the  strings  alone 
sing  the  expressive  answer. 
220 


THE  LATER  BRUCKNER 

(Violins  doubled  in  8ve.) 

t£       3: 


A L"^T^  v, _*LTV    _JT 


(Strings,  wood  and  horns) 

A  third  phrase  now  appears,  where  lies  the  main 
poetry  of  the   movement.      Gentle   swaying   calls  of 

Tranquillo  (Wood  and  violins) 


(4  horns 
in  8ve.).i 


• — C-1r~ 

mf     (Horns) 


'-^     ±~ 


( Strings  with  bassoons) 
X 


Sva. 


221 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

soft  horns  and  wood,  echoed  and  answered  in  dose 
pursuit,  lead  to  a  mood  of  placid,  elemental  rhythm, 
with  something  of  "  Hheingold,'*  of  ''  Ossian  "  ballad, 
<>f  the  lapping  waves  of  Cherubini's  "  Anacreon."  In 
the  midst  the  horns  hlow  a  line,  of  sonorous  melody, 
where  the  cadence  has  a  breath  of  primal  legend. 
On  the  song  runs,  ever  mid  the  elemental  motion, 
to  a  resonant  height  and  dies  away  as  before.  The 
intimate,  romantic  melody  now  return-,  but  it  i* 
rocked  on  the  continuing  pelagic  pulse;  indeed,  we 
hear  anon  a  faint  phrase  of  the  legend,  in  distant 
trumpet,  till  we  roach  a  joint  rhapsody  of  both 
moods;  and  in  the  never  resting  motion,  mid  vanish- 
ing echoes,  we  dream  of  -»ome  romance  of  the  sea. 

Against  descending  harmonics  return  the  hollow, 
sombre  phrases  of  the  beginning,  with  the  full 
<-adenee  of  chorale  in  the  brass;  and  beyond.  the  whole 
prelude  has  a  full,  extended  verse.  In  the  alterna- 
tion of  solemn  and  sweet  episode  returns  the  tender 
melody,  with  pretty  inversions,  rising  again  to  an 
;irdent  height.  The  renewed  clash  of  acclaiming 
< -horns  ushers  again  the  awful  phrase  of  unison  (now 
in  octave  descent),  in  towering  majesty.  But  now 
it  rises  in  the  ever  increasing  vehemence  where  the 
final  blast  is  lit  up  with  a  flash  of  serene  sonority. 

This  motive,  of  simple  octave  call,  indeed  pervades 
the  earlier  symphony  in  big  and  little.  And  now, 
above  a  steady,  sombre  melodic  tread  of  strings  it 
ri-es  in  a  fray  of  eager  retorts,  transfigured  in  won- 
derful harmony  again  and  again  to  a  brilliant  height, 
222 


THE  LATER  BRUCKNER 

pausing  on  a  ringing  refrain,  in  sombre  hue  of  over- 
powering blast. 

A  soft  interlude  of  halting  and  diminishing 
strings  leads  to  the  romantic  melody,  as  it  first  ap- 
peared, where  the  multiple  song  again  deepens  and 
ennobles  the  theme.  It  passes  straight  into  the 
waving,  elemental  motion,  where  again  the  hallowed 
horn  utters  its  sibyl  phrase,  again  rising  to  resonant 
height.  And  again  merges  the  intimate  song  with 
the  continuing  pulse  of  the  sea,  while  the  trumpet 
softly  sounds  the  legend  a.nd  a  still  greater  height 
of  rhapsody. 

Dull  brooding  chords  bring  a  sombre  play  of  the 
awing  phrase,  over  a  faint  rocking  motion,  clashing 
in  bold  harmony,  while  the  horns  surge  in  broader 
melody.  The  climactic  clash  ends  in  a  last  verse 
of  the  opening  phrase,  as  of  primal,  religious  chant. 

//. — Scherzo.  In  the  dazzling  pace  of  bright  clash- 
ing harmonies,  the  perfect  answers  of  falling  and 
rising  phrases,  we  are  again  before  the  semblance,  at 

(Flute  with  pizz.  violins) 

(Flute)^-      UJ 

dzr-BJ-yflnir 


Vivace    '*' 


(Plzz.  Rtrirgs) 

least,  of  a  great  poetic  idea.  To  be  sure  there  is  a 
touch  of  stereotype  in  the  chords  and  even  in  the 
pinch  and  clash  of  hostile  motives.  And  there  is  not 
the  distinctive  melody, — final  stamp  and  test  of  the 
223 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


shaft  of  inspiration.  Yet  in  the  enchantment  of 
motion,  sound  and  form,  it  seems  mean-spirited  to 
cavil  at  a  want  of  something  greater.  One  stands 
bewildered  before  such  art  and  stunned  of  all  judg- 
ment 

A  delight  of  delicate  gambols  follows  the  first 
brilliant  dance  of  main  motive.  Amid  a  rougher 
trip  of  unison  sounds  the  sonorous  brass,  and  to  soft- 
est jarring  murmur  of  strings  a  pretty  jingle  of  reed, 


(Pizz.  strings  with  soft  chord 
of  wind  and  rhythmic  bassoon) 

with  later  a  slower  counter-song,  almost  a  madrigal 
of  pastoral  answers,  till  we  are  back  in  the  ruder 
original  dance.  The  gay  cycle  leads  to  a  height  of 
rough  volume  (where  the  mystic  brass  sound  in  the 
midst)  and  a  revel  of  echoing  chase. 

In  sudden  hush  of  changed  tone  on  fastest  fairy 
trip,  strings  and  wood  play  to  magic  harmonies.  In 
calming  motion  the  violins  sing  a  quieter  song,  ever 


Piu 


Dolce  (Violins) 


(Violins) 


(Oboes  with 
sustained  strings) 


224 


THE  LATER  BRUCKNER 


echoed  by  the  reed.  Though  there  is  no  gripping 
force  of  themal  idea,  the  melodies  are  all  of  grateful 
charm,  and  in  the  perfect  round  of  rhythmic  design 
we  may  well  be  content.  The  original  dance  recurs 
with  a  full  fine  orgy  of  hostile  euphony. 

777. — Adagio.      Feierlich, — awesome    indeed     are 
these  first  sounds,  and  we  are  struck  by  the  original- 

Molto  lento  (SoJenne) 


(Strings  with  choir  of      mf  con  8ve. 
tubas,  later  of  trombones 
and  contrabass-tuba) 

ity  of  Bruckner's  technic.  After  all  we  must  give 
the  benefit  at  least  of  the  doubt,  And  there  is  after 
this  deeply  impressive  introit  a  gorgeous  Promethean 

(Woodwind  and  low  brass 
with  tremolo 
strings) 


(3  trumpets) 

*->7.\   (4  horns)      ff 


-f 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

spring  of  up-leaping  harmonies.  The  whole  has  cer- 
tainl}*  more  of  concrete  beauty  than  many  of  the 
labored  attempts  of  the  present  day. 

The  prelude  dies  down  with  an  exquisite  touch  of 
precious  dissonance, — whether  it  came  from  the  heart 
or  from  the  workshop.  The  strange  and  tragic  part 
is  that  with  so  much  art  and  talent  there  should  not 
be  the  strong  individual  idea, — the  flash  of  new 
tonal  figure  that  stands  fearless  upon  its  own  feet. 
All  this  pretty  machinery  seems  wasted  upon  the 
framing  and  presenting,  at  the  moment  of  expecta- 
tion, of  the  shadows  of  another  poet's  ideas  or  of 
mere  platitudes. 

In  the  midst  of  the  broad  sweeping  theme  with  a 

(Strings,  with  cl't  and  oboe) 
Very  broadly 
(G  string) 


£3^EEeEE7j£ 
-^ffe^ 


f>\  I 

promise  of  deep  utterance  is  a  phrase  of  horns  with 
the  precise  accent  and  agony  of  a  Tristan.  The  very 
semblance  of  whole  motives  seems  to  be  taken  from 
the  warp  and  woof  of  Waguerian  drama.  And  thu* 
the  whole  symphony  is  degraded,  in  its  gorgeous 
capacity,  to  the  reechoed  rhapsody  of  exotic  rornan- 


THE  LATER  BRUCKNER 

ticism.     It  is  all  little  touches,  no  big  thoughts, — a 
mosaic  of  a  symphony. 


And  so  the  second  theme  *  is  almost  too  heavily 
hiden  with   tine  detail  for  its  own  strength,  though 


(Violins,  reeds  and  horns) 
j     Poco  piu  lento 


(Pizz.ol 
lower 
strings) 

it  ends  with  a  gracefully  delicate  answer.  The  main 
melody  soon  recurs  and  sings  with  a  stress  of  warm 
feeling  in  the  cellos,  echoed  by  glowing  strains  of 

*  We  have  spoken  of  a  prelude,  first  and  second  theme : 
they  might  have  been  more  strictly  numbered  first,  second 
and  third  theme 

227 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  horns.  Romantic  harmonies  bring  back  the 
solemn  air  of  the  prelude  with  a  new  counter  melody, 
in  precise  opposite  figure,  as  though  inverted  in  a 
mirror,  and  again  the  dim  moving  chords  that  seem 
less  of  Bruckner  than  of  legendary  drama.  In  big 
accoutrement  the  double  theme  moves  with  double 
answers,  ever  with  the  sharp  pinch  of  harmonies  and 
heroic  mien.  Gentlest  retorts  of  the  motives  sing 
with  fairy  clearness  (in  horns  and  reeds),  rising  to 
tender,  expressive  dialogue.  With  growing  spirit  they 
ascend  once  more  to  the  triumphant  clash  of 
empyrean  chords,  that  may  suffice  for  justifying 
beauty. 

Instead  of  the  first,  the  second  melody  follows  with 
its  delicate  grace.  After  a  pause  recurs  the  phrase 
that  harks  from  mediaeval  romance,  now  in  a  stirring 
ascent  of  close  chasing  voices.  The  answer,  perfect 
in  its  timid  halting  descent,  exquisite  in  accent  and 
in  the  changing  hues  of  its  periods,  is  robbed  of  true 
effect  by  its  direct  reflection  of  Wagnerian  ecstasies. 

As  if  in  recoil,  a  firm  hymnal  phrase  sounds 
in  the  strings,  ending  in  a  more  intimate  cadence. 
Another  chain  of  rarest  fairy  clashes,  on  the  motive 
of  the  prelude,  leads  to  the  central  verse,  the  song  of 
the  first  main  melody  in  the  midst  of  soft  treading 
strings,  and  again  descends  the  fitting  answer  of 
poignant  accent. 

And  now,  for  once  forgetting  all  origin  and  cling- 
ing sense  of  reminiscence,  we  may  revel  in  the  ric-h 
romance,  the  fathoms  of  mystic  harmony,  as  the  main 
228 


THE  LATER  BRUCKNER 

song  sings  and  rings  from  the  depths  of  dim  legend 
in  lowest  brass,  amidst  a  soft  humming  chorus,  in 
constant  shift  of  fairy  tone. 

A  flight  of  ascending  chords  brings  the  big  exalta- 
tion of  the  first  prophetic  phrase,  ever  answered  by 
exultant  ring  of  trumpet,  ending  in  sudden  awing 
pause.  An  eerie  train  of  echoes  from  the  verse  of 
prelude  leads  to  a  loveliest  last  song  of  the  poignant 
answer  of  main  song,  over  murmuring  strings.  It 

(Tremolo  violins  with  lower  8ve.) 
.<?-...  (Reeds) 


is  carried  on  by  the  mystic  choir  of  sombre  brass  in 
shifting  steps  of  enchanting  harmony  and  dies  away 
in  tenderest  lingering  accents.* 

*  In  place  of  the  uncompleted  Finale.  Bruckner  is  said 
to  have  directed  that  his  "  Te  Deum  "  be  added  to  the 
other  movements. 


229 


CHAPTER  XVI 
HUGO  WOLFF 


A;'     XI  »//'//o\/r  POEM  | 

A~tf  entirely  opposite  type  of  composer,  Hugo 
Wolff,  shows  the  real  strength  of  modern  Ger- 
man music  in  a  lyric  vein,  sincere,  direct  and  fervent. 
His  longest  work  for  instruments  has  throughout  the 
charm  of  .natural  rhythm  and  melody,  with  subtle 
shading  of  the  harmony.  Though  there  is  no  want 
of  contrapuntal  design,  the  workmanship  itever 
obtrudes.  It  is  a  model  of  the  right  use  of  symbolic 
motives  in  frequent  recurrence  and  subtle  variation. 
In  another  instrumental  piece,  tin-  "  Italian  Sere- 
nade," all  kinds  of  daring  suspenses  and  gentle 
clashes  and  surprises  of  harmonic  scene  give  a  frag- 
rance of  dissonant  euphony,  where  a  clear  melody 
«ver  rules.  "  Penthesilea,"  with  a  climactic  passion 
and  a  sheer  contrast  of  tempest  and  tenderness. 
uttered  with  all  the  mastery  of  modern  devices,  has 
a  pervading  thrall  of  pure  musical  beauty.  We  are 
tempted  to  hail  in  Wolff  a  true  poet  in  an  age  of 
pedants  and  false  prophets. 

*  Hugo  Wolff,  born  in  1860,  died  in  1903. 
f  After  the  like-named  tragedy  of  Heinrich  von  Kleist. 
230 


HUGO  WOLFF 

PEXTHESILEA— A  TRAGEDY  BY  HEIXRICH  vox  KLETST.* 
As  Wolff's  work  is  admittedly  modelled  on  Kleist's  trag- 
edy, little  known  to  the  English  world,  it  is  important  to 
view  the  main  lines  of  this  poem,  which  has  provoked  so 
divergent  a  criticism  in  Germany. 

On  the  whole,  the  tragedy  seems  to  be  one  of  those 
daring,  even  profane  assaults  on  elemental  questions  by 
ways  that  are  untrodden  if  not  forbidden.  It  is  a  won- 
derful type  of  Romanticist  poetry  in  the  bold  choice  of 
subject  and  in  the  intense  vigor  and  beauty  of  the  verse. 
Coming  with  a  shock  upon  the  classic  days  of  German 
poetry,  it  met  with  a  stern  rebuke  from  the  great  Goethe. 
But  a  century  later  we  must  surely  halt  in  following  the 
lead  of  so  severe  a  censor.  The  beauty  of  diction  alone 
seems  a  surety  of  a  sound  content, — as  when  Penthesilea 
exclaims : 

'•  A  hero  man  can  be — a  Titan — in  distress, 
But  like  a  god   5s   lie  when  rapt   in  blessedness." 

An  almost  convincing  symbolism  has  been  suggested  of 
the  latent  meaning  of  the  poem  by  a  modern  critic,f — a 
symbolism  that  seems  wonderfully  reflected  in  Wolff's 
music.  The  charge  of  perverted  passion  can  be  based  only 
on  certain  lines,  and  these  are  spoken  within  the  period  of 
madness  that  has  overcome  the  heroine.  This  brings  us 
to  the  final  point  which  may  suggest  the  main  basic  fault 
in  the  poem,  considered  as  art.  At  least  it  is  certainly 
a  question  whether  pure  madness  can  ever  be  a  fitting 
subject  in  the  hero  of  a  tragedy.  Ophelia  is  an  episode; 
Hamlet's  madness  has  never  been  finally  determined. 
Though  the  Erinnys  hunted  Orestes  in  more  than  one  play, 

*  German,  1776-1811. 

fKuno  Francke.  See  the  notes  of  Philip  Hale  in  the 
programme  book  of  the  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra  of 
April  3-4,  1908. 

231 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

yet  no  single  Fury  could,  after  all,  be  the  heroine  of  trag- 
edy. Penthesilea  became  in  the  crisis  a  pure  Fury,  and 
though  she  may  find  here  her  own  defense,  the  play  may 
not  benefit  by  the  same  plea.  On  the  other  hand,  the  mad- 
ness is  less  a  reality  than  an  impression  of  the  Amazons 
who  cannot  understand  the  heroine's  conflicting  feelings. 
There  is  no  one  moment  in  the  play  when  the  hearer's  sym- 
pathy for  the  heroine  is  destroyed  by  a  clear  sense  of  her 
insanity. 

For  another  word  on  the  point  of  symbolism,  it  must  be 
remembered  that  the  whole  plot  is  one  of  supernatural 
legend  where  somehow  human  acts  and  motives  need  not 
conform  to  conventional  rule,  and  where  symbolic  meaning, 
as  common  reality  disappears,  is  mainly  eminent.  It  is  in 
this  same  spirit  that  the  leading  virtues  of  the  race,  of 
war  or  of  peace,  are  typified  by  feminine  figures. 

The  Tragedy  is  not  divided  into  acts;  it  has  merely  four 
and  twenty  scenes — upon  the  battlefield  of  Troy.  The 
characters  are  Penthesilea,  Queen  of  the  Amazons;  her 
chief  leaders,  Prothoe,  Meroe  and  Asteria,  and  the  high 
priestess  of  Diana.  Of  the  Greeks  there  are  Achilles, 
Odysseus,  Diomede  and  Antilochus.  Much  of  the  fighting 
and  other  action  is  not  seen,  but  is  reported  either  by 
messengers  or  by  present  witnesses  of  a  distant  scene. 

The  play  begins  with  the  battle  raging  between  Greeks 
and  Amazons.  Penthesilea  with  her  hosts  amazes  the 
Greeks  by  attacking  equally  the  Trojans,  her  reputed  allies. 
She  mows  down  the  ranks  of  the  Trojans,  and  yet  refuses 
all  proffers  of  the  Greeks. 

Thus  early  we  have  the  direct,  uncompromising  spirit, — 
a  kind  of  feminine  Prometheus.  The  first  picture  of  the 
heroine  is  of  a  Minerva  in  full  array,  stony  of  gaze  and 
of  expression  until — she  sees  Achilles.  Here  early  comes 
the  conflict  of  two  elemental  passions.  Penthesilea  recoils 
from  the  spell  and  dashes  again  into  her  ambiguous  war- 
fare. For  once  Greeks  and  Trojans  are  forced  to  fight  in 
common  defence. 

23J 


HUGO  WOLFF 

"  The  raging  Queen  with  blows  of  thunder  struck 
As  she  would  cleave  the  whole  race  of  the  Greeks 
Down  to  its  roots.  .  .  . 

More  of  the  captives  did  she  take 

Than  she  did  leave  us  eyes  to  count  the  list, 

Or  arms  to  set  them  free  again. 

Often  it  seemed  as  if  a  special  hate 
Against  Achilles  did  possess  her  breast. 

Yet  in  a  later  moment,  when 
His  life  was  given  straight  into  her  hands, 
Smiling  she  gave  it  back,  as  though  a  present; 
His  headlong  course  to  Hades  she  did  stay." 

In  midst  of  the  dual  battle  between  x\chilles  and  the 
Queen,  a  Trojan  prince  comes  storming  and  strikes  a  treach- 
erous blow  against  the  armor  of  the  Greek. 

"The  Queen  is  stricken  pale;    for  a  brief  moment 
Her  arms  hang  helpless  by  her  sides;  and  then, 
Shaking  her  locks  about  her  flaming  cheeks, 
Dashes  her  sword  like  lightning  in  his  throat, 
And  sends  him  rolling  to  Achilles'  feet." 

The  Greek  leaders  resolve  to  retreat  from  the  futile  fight 
and  to  call  Achilles  from  the  mingled  chase  of  love  and 
war. 

Achilles  is  now  reported  taken  by  the  Amazons.  The 
battle  is  vividly  depicted:  Achilles  caught  on  a  high  ledge 
with  his  war-chariot;  the  Amazon  Queen  storming  the 
height  from  below.  The  full  scene  is  witnessed  from  the 
stage, — Penthesilea  pursuing  almost  alone:  Achilles  sud- 
denly dodges;  the  Queen  as  quickly  halts  and  rears  her 
horse;  the  Amazons  fall  in  a  mingled  heap;  Achilles 
escapes,  though  wounded.  But  he  refuses  to  follow  his 
233 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

companions  to  the  camp;  he  swears  to  bring  home  the 
Queen  wooed  in  the  bloody  strife  of  her  own  seeking. 

Penthesilea  recoils  with  like  vehemence  from  the  en- 
treaties of  her  maids,  intent  upon  the  further  battle, 
resolved  to  overcome  the  hero  or  to  die.  She  forbids  the 
Festival  of  Roses  until  she  has  vanquished  Achilles.  In 
her  rage  she  banishes  her  favorite  Prothoe  from  her  pres- 
ence, but  in  a  quick  revulsion  takes  her  back. 

Tn  the  next  scene  the  high  priestess  and  the  little 
Amazon  maids  prepare  the  Feast,  which  Penthesilea  had 
ordered  in  her  confident  attack  upon  the  fleeing  Greeks. 
One  of  the  Rose-maidens  recounts  the  passing  scene  of  the 
Queen's  amazing  action.  The  indignant  priestess  sends  her 
command  to  the  Queen  to  return  to  the  celebration.  Though 
all  the  royal  suite  fling  themselves  in  her  path,  Penthesilea 
advances  to  the  dual  battle.* 

In  a  renewal  of  her  personal  contest,  regardless  of  the 
common  cause,  and  in  her  special  quest  of  a  chosen  husband. 
Penthesilea  has  broken  the  sacred  law. 

The  flight  now  follows  of  the  Amazon  hosts.  When  the 
two  combatants  meet  in  the  shock  of  lances,  the  Queen 
falls  in  the  dust;  her  pallor  is  reflected  in  Achilles'  face. 
Leaping  from  his  horse,  he  bends  o'er  her,  calls  her  by 
names,  and  woos  life  back  into  her  frame.  Her  faithful 
maids,  whom  she  has  forbidden  to  harm  Achilles,  lead  her 
away.  And  here  begins  the  seeihing  madness  of  the  Queen 
when  she  confesses  her  love.  For  a  moment  she  yields  to 
her  people's  demands,  but  the  sight  of  the  rose-wreaths 
kindles  her  rage  anew.  Prothoe  defends  her  in  these  lines: 

*  The  law  of  the  Amazons  commanded  them  to  wage  war 
as  told  them  by  the  oracle  of  Mars.  TJ»e  prisoners  were 
brought  to  the  Feast  of  Roses  and  wedded  by  their  captors. 
After  a  certain  time  they  were  sent  back  to  their  homes. 
All  male  children  of  the  tribe  were  put  to  death. 
234 


HUGO  WOLFF 

"  Of  life  the  highest  blessing  she  attempted. 
Grazing  she  almost  grasped.     Her  hands  now  fail   her 
For  any  other  lesser  goal  to  reach." 

In  the  last  part  of  the  scene  the  Queen  falls  more  and 
deeper  into  madness.  It  is  only  in  a  too  literal  spirit  that 
one  will  find  an  oblique  meaning, — by  too  great  readiness 
to  discover  it.  In  reality  there  seems  to  be  an  intense 
conflict  of  opposite  emotions  in  the  heroine:  the  pure 
woman's  love,  without  sense  of  self;  and  the  wild  over- 
powering greed  of  achievement.  Between  these  grinding 
stones  she  wears  her  heart  away.  A  false  interpretation  of 
decadent  theme  comes  from  regarding  the  two  emotions  as 
mingled,  instead  of  alternating  in  a  struggle. 

Achilles  advances,  having  Hung  away  his  armor.  Prothoe 
persuades  him  to  leave  the  Queen,  when  she  awakes,  in  the 
delusion  that  she  has  conquered  and  that  he  is  the  captive. 
Thus  when  she  beholds  the  hero,  she  breaks  forth  into  the 
supreme  moment  of  exaltation  and  of  frenzied  triumph. 
The  main  love  scene  follows : 

Penthesilea  tells  Achilles  the  whole  story  of  the  Amazons, 
the  conquest  of  the  original  tribe,  the  rising  of  the  wives 
of  the  murdered  warriors  against  the  conquerors;  the 
destruction  of  the  right  breast  (A-mazon)  •  the  dedication 
of  the  "  brides  of  Mars  "  to  war  and  love  in  one.  In  seek- 
ing out  Achilles  the  Queen  has  broken  the  law.  But  here 
again  appears  the  double  symbolic  idea:  Achilles  meant  to 
the  heroine  not  love  alone,  but  the  overwhelming  conquest, 
the  great  achievement  of  her  life. 

The  first  feeling  of  Penthesilea,  when  disillusioned,  is  of 
revulsive  anger  at  a  kind  of  betrayal.  The  Amazons  re- 
cover ground  in  a  wild  desire  to  save  their  Queen,  and  they 
do  rescue  her,  after  a  parting  scene  of  the  lovers.  But 
Penthesilea  curses  the  triumph  that  snatches  her  away ;  the 
high  priestess  rebukes  her,  sets  her  free  of  her  royal 
duties,  to  follow  her  love  if  she  will.  The  Queen  is  driven 
235 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

from  one  mood  to  another,  of  devoted  love,  burning  am- 
bition and  mortal  despair. 

Achilles  now  sends  a  challenge  to  Penthesilea,  knowing 
the  Amazon  conditions.  Against  all  entreaty  the  Queen 
accepts,  not  in  her  former  spirit,  but  in  the  frenzy  of 
desperate  endeavor,  in  the  reawakened  rage  of  her  ambition, 
spurred  and  pricked  by  the  words  of  the  priestess. 

The  full  scene  of  madness  follows.  She  calls  for  her  dogs 
and  elephants,  and  the  full  accoutrement  of  battle.  Amidst 
the  terror  of  her  own  warriors,  the  rolling  of  thunder,  she 
implores  the  gods'  help  to  crush  the  Greek.  In  a  final 
touch  of  frenzy  she  aims  a  dart  at  her  faithful  Prothoe. 

The  battle  begins,  Achilles  in  fullest  confidence  in  Pen- 
thesilea's  love,  unfrightened  by  the  wild  army  of  dogs  and 
elephants.  The  scene,  told  by  the  present  on-lookers,  is 
heightened  by  the  cries  of  horror  and  dismay  of  the 
Amazons  themselves. 

Achilles  falls;  Penthesilea,  a  living  Fury,  dashes  upon 
him  with  her  dogs  in  an  insane  orgy  of  blood.  The  Queen 
in  the  culminating  scene  is  greeted  by  the  curses  of  the 
high  priestess.  Prothoe  masters  her  horror  and  turns 
back  to  soothe  the  Queen.  Penthesilea,  unmindful  of  what 
has  passed,  moves  once  more  through  the  whole  gamut  of 
her  torturing  emotions,  and  is  almost  calmed  when  she  spies 
the  bier  with  the  hero's  body.  The  last  blow  falls  when 
upon  her  questions  she  learns  the  full  truth  of  her  deed. 
The  words  she  utters  (that  have  been  cited  by  the  hostile 
critics)  may  well  be  taken  as  the  ravings  of  hopeless 
remorse,  with  a  symbolic  play  of  words.  She  dies,  as  she 
proclaims,  by  the  knife  of  her  own  anguish. 

The  last  lines  of  Prothoe  arc  a  kind  of  epilogue: 

"  She  sank  because  too  proud  and  strong  she  flourished. 
The  half -decayed  oak  withstands  the  tempest; 
The  vigorous  tree  is  headlong  dashed  to  earth 
Because  the  storm  has  struck  into  its  crown."  * 

*  Translations,  when  not  otherwise  credited,  are  by  the 
author.  236 


HUGO  WOLFF 


The  opening  scene— "  Lively,  vehement:  Depart- 
ure of  the  Amazons  for  Troy " — begins  impetuous 
and  hefty  with  big  strokes  of  the  throbbing  motive, 

(TuUi  with       (Piccolo  in  8ve.) 
higher  8ves.) 


(Bass  in  8ve.) 


the  majestic  rhythm  coursing  below,  lashed  by  a 
quicker  phrase  above.  Suddenly  trumpets  sound, 
somewhat  more  slowly,  a  clarion  call  answered  by  a 
choir  of  other  trumpets  and  horns  in  enchanting  re- 
tort of  changing  harmonies.  Ever  a  fresh  color  of 

(Flutes  and  oboes) 


_i_  U—^fltp^— , 

(Lower  strings  pi 22.) 
237 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

tone  sounds  in  the  call  of  the  brass,  as  if  here  or 
yonder  on  the  battle-field.  Sometimes  it  is  almost 
too  sweetly  chanting  for  fierce  war.  But  presently  it 
turns  to  a  wilder  mood  and  breaks  in  galloping  pace 
into  a  true  chorus  of  song  with  clear  cadence. 

(Flutes  with  reeds  in  lower  8ve.) 


(  Lower  strings  and 
brass  with  lower  8ve.) 

The  joyful  tinge  is  quickly  lost  in  the  sombre  hue 
of  another  phase  of  war-song  that  has  a  touch  of 
funeral  trip  (though  it  is  all  in  %  time)  : 
(Muted  strings) 


HUGO  WOLFF 

A  melody  in  the  minor  plays  first  in  a  choir  of 
horns  and  bassoons,  later  in  united  strings,  accom- 
panied by  soft  rolls  of  drums  and  a  touch  of  the 
lowest  brass.  Harp  and  higher  woodwind  are  added, 
but  the  volume  is  never  transcendent  save  in  a  single 
burst  when  it  is  quickly  hushed  to  the  first  ominous 
whisper.  Out  of  this  sombre  song  flows  a  romance 
of  tender  sentiment,  tranquillo  in  strings,  followed  by 
the  wood.  The  crossing  threads  of  expressive  melody 

Tranquillo 


(In  the 
midst  enters  a  strain  of  solo  horn) 

rise  in  instant  renewal  of  stress  and  agitation.  The 
joy  of  battle  has  returned,  but  it  seems  that  the 
passion  of  love  burns  in  midst  of  the  glow  of  battle, 
each  in  its  separate  struggle,  and  both  together  in 
one  fatal  strife.  The  sombre  melody  returns  in  full 
career,  dying  down  to  a  pause.* 

*  In  a  somewhat  literal  commentary  attributed  to  Dr. 
Richard  Batka,  the  Amazons  here,  "  having  reached  their 
destination,  go  into  night-encampment — as  represented  by 
the  subdued  roll  of  the  kettle-drums,  with  which  the  move- 
ment concludes." 

239 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

IfoHo  sostentito,  in  changed  thythm  of  three 
slow  beats,  comes  "  Penthcsilea's  Dream  of  the  Feast 
of  Roses."  Over  a  thick  cluster  of  harmonies  in  harp 
and  strings  the  higher  wood  sing  a  new  song  in  long 
drawn  lyric  notes  with  ravishing  turns  of  tonal  color. 


(Rapid  arpeggio  figures  of  harps  and  muted  strings) 

— a  dual  song  and  in  many  groups  of  two.  The 
tranquil  current  of  the  dream  is  gradually  disturbed  ; 
the  main  burden  is  dimmed  in  hue  and  in  mood. 
Faster,  more  fitful  is  the  flow  of  melody,  with  hostile 
intruding  motive  below;  it  dashes  at  last  into  the 
tragic  phase — Combats;  Passions;  Madness;  Destruc- 
tion— in  very  rapid  tempo  of  2/2  rhythm : 

In  broad,  masterful  pace,  big  contrary  figure 
sweep  up  and  down,  cadencing  in  almost  joyous 
chant,  gliding,  indeed,  into  a  pure  hymn,  as  of 
triumph  (that  harks  back  to  the  chorussing  song  in 
the  beginning). 

Throughout  the  poem  the  musical  symbols  as  well 
as  the  motives  of  passion  are  closely  intertwined. 
Thus  the  identity  of  the  impetuous  phrase  of  the 
240 


HUGO  WOLFF 


very  beginning-  is  clear  with  the  blissful  theme  of  the 
Dream  of  the  Feast  of  Koses.  Here,  at  the  end  of  the 
chorussing  verse  is  a  play  or  a  strife  of  phrases  where 
we  cannot  escape  a  symbolic  intent.  To  tremolo  of 
violas  the  cellos  hold  a  tenor  of  descending  melody 
over  a  rude  rumbling  phrase  of  the  basses  of  wood 
and  strings,  while  the  oboe  sings  in  the  treble  an  ex- 
pressive answer  of  ascending  notes.  A  conflict  is 


(Motto  vivace)  (cello 
molto  tspressivo) 


dim. 


and  bassoons  with  upper  8ve.) 
(Oboe)  e^pressiro 


evident,  of  love  and  ambition,  of  savage  and  of  gentle 
passion,  of  chaos  and  of  beauty.     At  the  height,  the 
-      16  241 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

lowest  brass  intrude  a  brutal  note  of  triumph  of  the 
descending  theme.  To  the  victory  of  Pride  succeeds 
a  crisis  of  passionate  yearning.  But  at  the  very 
height  is  a  plunge  into  the  fit  of  madness,  the  fatal 
descending  phrase  (in  trombones)  is  ever  followed 
by  furious  pelting  spurts  in  the  distorted  main  theme; 

At  last  the  paroxysm  abates,  throbbing  ever  slower, 
merging  into  the  tender  song  of  the  Dream  that  now 
rises  to  the  one  great  burst  of  love-passion.  But  it 
ends  in  a  wild  rage  that  turns  right  into  the  war-song 
of  the  beginning.  And  this  is  much  fuller  of  inci- 
dent than  before.  Violins  now  ring  an  hostile  motive 
(the  former  rumbling  phrase  of  basses)  from  the 
midst  of  the  plot  against  the  main  theme  in  trumpets. 
Instead  of  the  former  pageantry,  here  is  the  pure 
frenzy  of  actual  war.  The  trumpet  melodies  resound 
amidst  the  din  of  present  battle.  Instead  of  the  other 
gentler  episodes,  here  is  a  more  furious  raving  of 
the  mad  Queen  (in  the  hurried  main  motive),  where 
we  seem  to  see  the  literal  dogs  of  war  let  loose  and 
spurred  on,— «ach  paroxysm  rising  to  a  higher  shock. 

Great  is  the  vehemence  of  speed  and  sound  as  the 
dull  doom  of  destruction  drones  in  the  basses  against 
a  grim  perversion  of  the  yearning  theme  above,  that 
overwhelms  the  scene  with  a  final  shriek. 

Slowly  the  dream  of  love  breathes  again,  rises  to  a 
fervent  burst,  then  yields  to  the  fateful  chant  and 
ends  in  a  whisper  of  farewell. 


242 


CHAPTER  XVII 
MAHLER  * 

IN"  Mahler  the  most  significant  sign  is  a  return  to 
a  true  counterpoint,  as  against  a  mere  overlading 
of  themes,  that  began  in  Wagner  and  still  persists  in 
Strauss, — an  artificial  kind  of  structure  that  is  never 
conceived  as  a  whole. 

While  we  see  in  Mahler  much  of  the  duophonic 
manner  of  his  teacher,  Bruckner,  in  the  work  of  the 
younger  man  the  barren  art  is  crowned  with  the 
true  fire  of  a  sentient  poet.  So,  if  Bruckner  had  little 
to  say,  he  showed  the  way  to  others.  And  Mahler, 
if  he  did  not  quite  emerge  from  the  mantle  of 
Beethoven,  is  a  link  towards  a  still  greater  future. 
The  form  and  the  technic  still  seem,  as  with  most 
modern  symphonies,  too  great  for  the  message.  It  is 
another  phase  of  orchestral  virtuosity,  of  intellectual 
strain,  but  with  more  of  poetic  energy  than  in  the 
symphonies  of  the  French  or  other  Germans. 

In  other  forms  we  see  this  happy  reaction  towards 
ancient  art,  as  in  the  organ  music  of  a  Eeger.  But 
in  the  Finale  of  Mahler's  Fifth  Symphony  there  is  a 
true  serenity,  a  new  phase  of  symphony,  without  the 
climactic  stress  of  traditional  triumph,  yet  none  the 
less  joyous  in  essence. 

We  cannot  help  rejoicing  that  in  a  sincere  and 

*Gustav   Mahler,    1860-1911. 
243 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

poetic  design  of  symphony  is  blended  a  splendid 
renaissance  of  pure  counterpoint,  that  shines  clear 
above  the  modern  spurious  pretence.  The  Final*? 
of  Mahler's  Fifth  Symphony  is  one  of  the  most  in- 
spired conceptions  of  counterpoint  in  all  music.  In 
it  is  realized  the  full  dream  of  a  revival  of  the  art 
in  all  its  glorious  estate. 

flYUPHO\Y  yO.  .7 

I. — 1.  Funeral  March. 

2.  In  stormy  motion   (with  greatest  vehemence). 
II. — 3.  Scherzo  (with  rigor, — not  too  fast). 
III. — I.  Adagietto    (very  slowly). 
5.  Rondo-Finale  (allegro). 

Mahler's  Fifth  Symphony,  whatever  be  its  intrinsic 
merit,  that  can  be  decided  only  by  time  and  wear, 
undoubtedly  marks  a  high  point  of  orchestral  splen- 
dor, in  the  regard  of  length  and  of  the  complexity 
of  resources.  By  the  latter  is  meant  not  so  much 
the  actual  list  of  instruments  as  the  pervading  and 
accumulating  use  of  thematic  machinery.* 

The  plan  of  movements  is  very  original  and  in  a 
way,  two-fold.  There  are  three  great  divisions,  of 

*  The  symphony  is  probably  the  longest  instrumental 
work  that  had  appeared  at  the  time  of  its  production  in 
1904.  The  list  of  instruments  comprises  4  flutes,  3  oboes, 
3  clarinets,  2  bassoons,  contra-bassoon,  0  horns,  4  trumpets, 
3  trombones,  tuba,  kettle-drums,  cymbals,  bass-drum. 
Bnare-drum,  triangle,  glockenspiel,  gong,  harp  and  strings. 

Compared  with  D'Indy's  Second  Symphony,  the  Fifth 
of  Mahler  has  a  larger  body  of  brass  as  well  as  of  wood- 
wind. 

244 


MAHLER 


which  the  first  comprises  a  Funeral  March,  and  ail 
untitled  Allegro  in  vehement  motion.  The  second 
division  has  merely  the  single  movement,  Scherzo. 
In  the  third  are  an  Adagietto  and  a  Rondo  Finale. 

I- — -?•  Funeral  March. — A  call  of  trumpet,  of 
heroic  air  and  tread,  is  answered  by  strident  chords 
ending  in  a  sonorous  motive  of  horns  that  leads  to 
the  funeral  trip,  of  low  brass.  The  mournful  song 
of  the  principal  melody  appears  presently  in  the 
strings,  then  returns  to  the  funeral  trip  and  to  the 
strident  chords.  The  first  trumpet  motive  now 
sounds  with 'this  clanging  phrase  and  soon  the  orig- 
inal call  abounds  in  other  brass.  The  deep  descend- 
ing notes  of  the  horns  recur  and  the  full  song  of  the 
funeral  melody  much  extended,  growing  into  a  duct 
of  cellos  and  high  wood-wind, 

(Strings,  bassoons  and  clarinets) 


and  further  into  hymnal  song  on  a  new  motive. 
245 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 
(Wood,  horns  and  strings) 


notes  in  lowest  wood  and  strings) 


^ff^jijyjV^pfe 


So  the  various  melodies  recur  with  new  mood  and 
manner.  Suddenly,  in  fierce  abandon,  a  martial 
tramp  of  the  full  band  resounds,  in  gloomy  minor, 

Suddenly  faster.  Impassioned 

(Rapid  descending  figure  in  violins) 

(Trumpet)  


(Trombones) 


'  r* 


(Tuba  and  strings) 


Z^-J      J        J-— -J       J        > — -J      J         J 
,.    =^f  4     T^?f    -ft-f?*  "ft      i^ 

gj^^ty       33  g        T^^^  II  ^^ 


r  r 

246 


MAHLER 

the  violins  in  rapid  rage  of  wailing  figure :  the  trum- 
pet strikes  the  firm  note  of  heroic  plaint. 

Wild  grief  breaks  out  on  all  sides,  the  strings  sing- 
ing in  passionate  answer  to  the  trumpet,  the  high 
wood  carrying  on  the  rapid  motion.  At  the  height  of 
the  storm  the  woodwind  gain  control  with  measured 
rhythm  of  choral  melody.  Or  perhaps  the  real 
height  is  the  expressive  double  strain,  in  gentle  pace, 
of  the  strings,  and  the  wood  descending  from  on  high. 

( Woodwind  doubled  below) 


dim. 

I    ,  ,     I" 


-r-t--t=F= — ki>-rf-P 


(Strings  doubled  above) 
expresuico      i 


Y 

( Brass  and  strings ) 

The  duet  is  carried  on  in  wilder  mood  by  most  of 
the  voices. 

A  return  to  the  solemn  pace  comes  by  impercep- 
tible change,  the  softer  hues  of  grief  merging  with 
the  fiercer  cries.  Now  various  strains  sound  together, 
— the  main  funeral  melody  in  the  woodwind. 

In  the  close  recurs  the  full  flow  of  funeral  song, 
with  the  hymnal  harmonies.  In  the  refrain  of  the 
stormy  duet  the  sting  of  passion  is  gone;  the  whole 
plaint  dies  away  amid  the  fading  echoes  of  the 
trumpet  call. 

247 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


/. — 2.  The  second  movement,  the  real  first  Allegro, 
is  again  clearly  in  two  parts.  Only,  the  relative  paces 
are  exactly  reversed  from  the  first  movement.  In 
tempestuous  motion,  with  greatest  vehemence,  a  rush- 
ing motive  of  the  basses  is  stopped  by  a  chord  of 
brass  aii(J  strings, — the  chord  itself  reverberating  to 
the  lower  rhythm. 

In  utirrintf  motion.    With  greatest  vehemence 
(Brass  and  strings ) 


( Bass  of  wood  and  string) 
(Trumpets) 


rit. 


a  tempo 


Throughout  the  whole  symphony  is  the  dual 
theme,  each  part  spurring  the  other.  Here  presently 
are  phrases  in  conflicting  motion,  countermarching 
in  a  stormy  maze.  It  is  all,  too,  like  noisy  prepara- 
tion,— a  manoeuvring  of  forces  before  the  battle. 
Three  distinct  figures  there  are  before  a  blast  of  horn 
in  slower  notes,  answered  by  shrill  call  in  highest 
248 


MAHLER 

wood.     There  enters  a  regular,  rhythmic  gait  and 
a  clearer  tune,  suggested  by  the  call. 

(Horns,  oboes  and 
1st  violins,  G  string) 


im 


In  the  brilliant  medley  there  is  ever  a  new  figure 
we  had  not  perceived.  So  when  the  tune  has  been 
told,  trumpets  and  horns  begin  with  what  seems 
almost  the  main  air,  and  the  former  voices  sound  like 
mere  heralds.  Finally  the  deep  trombones  and  tuba 
249 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

enter  with  a  sonorous  call.    Yet  the  first  rapid  trip  of 
all  has  the  main  legend. 

As  the  quicker  figures  gradually  retire,  a  change 
of  pace  appears,  to  the  tramp  of  funeral.  Yet  the 
initial  and  incident  strains  are  of  the  former .  text. 
Out  of  it  weaves  the  new,  slower  melody : 

Much  tlower  (in  the  tempo  of  the  former  funeral  march) 
( Oboes)      ( Flutes  and  clarinets ) 


Throughout,  the  old  shrill  call  sounds  in  soft 
lament.  Hardly  like  a  tune,  a  discourse  rather,  it 
winds  along,  growing  and  changing  naively  ever  to 
a  new  phrase.  And  the  soft  calls  about  seem  part 
of  the  melody.  An  expressive  line  rising  in  the 
clarinet  harks  back  to  one  of  the  later  strains  of  the 
funeral  march. 

The  second  melody  or  answer  (in  low  octaves  of 
250 


MAHLER 

strings)  is  a  scant  disguise  of  the  lower  tune  in  the 
stormy  duet  of  the  first  movement.  Yet  all  the 
strains  move  in  the  gentle,  soothing  pace  and  mood 
until  suddenly  awakened  to  the  first  vehement 
rhythm. 

Before  the  slower  verse  returns  is  a  long  plaint 
of  cellos  to  softest  roll  of  drums.  The  gentle  calls 
that  usher  in  the  melody  have  a  significant  turn,  up- 
wards instead  of  down.  All  the  figures  of  the  solemn 
episode  appear  more  clearly. 

On  the  spur  of  the  hurrying  main  motive  of  trum- 
pets the  first  pace  is  once  more  regained. 

A  surprise  of  plot  is  before  us.  In  sudden  recur- 
rence of  funeral  march  the  hymnal  song  of  the  first 
movement  is  heard.  As  suddenly,  we  are  plunged 
into  the  first  joyful  scene  of  the  symphony.  Here  it 
is  most  striking  how  the  call  of  lament  has  become 
triumphant,  as  it  seems  without  a  change  of  note. 
And  still  more  wonderful, — the  same  melody  that 
first  uttered  a  storm  of  grief,  then  a  gentle  sadness, 
now  has  a  firm  exultant  ring.  To  be  sure,  it  is  all 
done  with  the  magic  trip  of  bass, — as  a  hymn  may  be 
a  perfect  dance. 

Before  the  close  we  hear  the  first  fanfare  of  trum- 
pet from  the  opening  symphony,  that  has  the  ring 
of  a  motto  of  the  whole.  At  the  very  end  is  a  trans- 
figured entrance, — very  slowly  and  softly,  to  a  celes- 
tial touch  of  harp,  of  the  first  descending  figure  of 
the  movement. 

251 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


//.  —  3.  Scherzo.  Jovial  in  high  degree,  the 
Scherzo  begins  with  the  thematic  complexity  of  mod- 
ern fashion.  In  dance  tune  of  three  beats  horns 
lead  off  with  a  jolly  call;  strings  strike  dancing 
"hords;  the  lower  wind  play  a  rollicking  answer,  but 
together  with  the  horns,  both  strains  continuing  in 
•lancing  duet.  Still  the  saucy  call  of  horns  seems  the 
main  text,  though  no  single  tune  reigns  alone. 

(Horns) 
Scherzo.    With  vigor,  not  too  fast 


(Strings  and  flutes) 

*    -fc 

— a-*-**  N  I    *; 


Ev-  ,: 
_H^--J*J 


m 


i 


^ 


* 


^EE 


—pizz.  (Strings) 
(Clarinets  ana  basses) 

The  violins  now  play  above  the  horns:  then  the 
cellos  join  and  there  is  a  three-part  song  of  inde- 
pendent tunes,  all  in  the  dance.    So  far  in  separate 
252 


MAHLER 

voices  it  is  now  takeii  up  by  full  chorus,  though  still 
the  basses  sing  one  way,  trebles  another,  and  the 
middle  horns  a  third.  And  now  the  high  trumpet 
strikes  a  phrase  of  its  own.  But  they  are  all  in 
dancing  swing,  of  the  fibre  of  the  first  jolly  motive. 
A  new  episode  is  started  by  a  quicker  obUgato  of 
violins,  in  neighboring  minor,  that  plays  about  a 
fugue  of  the  woodwind  on  an  incisive  theme  where 
the  cadence  lias  a  strange  taste  of  bitter  sweet  har- 
mony in  the  modern  Gallic  manner. 


(Clarinets) 


=El±TlZB= 


*%^J      '-I- <+— Y  ( •— I 


1- 

(Violins) 


( Bass  of  brass  and  wood ) 

Horns  and  violins  now  pursue  their  former  duet, 
but  in  the  changed  hue  of  minor  where  the  old  con- 
cords are  quaintly  perverted.    But  this  is  only  to  give 
253 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

a  merrier  ring  to  the  bright  madrigal  that  follows  in 
sweetly  clashing  higher  wood,  with  the  trip  still  in 
the  violins.  Thence  the  horns  and  violins  break  again 
into  the  duet  in  the  original  key.  Here  the  theme  is 
wittily  inverted  in  the  bass,  while  other  strings  sing 
another  version  above. 

So  the  jolly  dance  and  the  quaint  fugue  alternate; 
a  recurring  phrase  is  carried  to  a  kind  of  dispute, 
with  opposite  directions  above  and  below  and  much 
augmented  motion  in  the  strings. 

In  the  dance  so  far,  in  "  three  time,"  is  ever  the 
vigorous  stamp  on  the  third  beat,  typical  of  the 
German  peasant  "Ldndler.'"  Here  of  a  sudden  is  a 
change  as  great  as  possible  within  the  continuing 
dance  of  three  steps.  "  More  tranquil "  in  pace,  in 
soft  strings,  without  a  trace  of  the  Ldndler  stamp,  is 
4,  pure  waltz  in  pretty  imitation  of  tuneful  theme. 

Mare  gently    (G  string)     (D  string) 


acc't  pizzicato 

And  so  the  return  to  the  vigorous  rough  dance  is 
the  more  refreshing.  The  merry  mood  yields  to  a 
darker  temper.  **  Wild  "  the  strings  rush  in  angry 
fugue  on  their  rapid  phrase ;  the  quaint  theme  is  torn 
254 


MAHLER 

to  shreds,,  recalling  the  fierce  tempest  of  earlier 
symphony. 

But  the  first  sad  note  of  the  Scherzo  is  in  the  recita- 
tive of  horn,  after  the  lull.  A  phrase  of  quiet  reflec- 
tion, with  which  the  horn  concludes  the  episode  as 
with  an  "envoi,"  is  now  constantly  rung;  it  is 
wrought  from  the  eerie  tempest;  like  refined  metal 
the  melody  is  finally  poured;  out  of  its  guise  is  the 
theme  now  of  mournful  dance. 

"  Shyly  "  the  tune  of  the  waltz  answers  in  softest 
oboe.  In  all  kinds  of  verses  it  is  sung,  in  expressive 
duet  of  lower  wood,  of  the  brass,  then  of  high 
reeds;  in  solo  trumpet  with  countertune  of  oboe, 
finally  in  high  flutes.  Here  we  see  curiously,  as  the 
first  themes  reappear,  a  likeness  with  the  original 
trumpet-call  of  the  symphony.  In  this  guise  of  the 
first  dance-theme  the  movements  are  bound  together. 
The  envoi  phrase  is  here  evident  throughout. 

At  this  mystic  stage,  to  pure  dance  trip  of  low 
strings  the  waltz  reenters  very  softly  in  constant 
growing  motion,  soon  attaining  the  old  pace  and  a 
new  fulness  of  sound.  A  fresh  spur  is  given  by  a 
wild  motion  of  strings,  as  in  the  f  ugal  episode ;  a  new 
height  of  tempest  is  reached  where  again  the  distorted 
shreds  of  first  dance  appear,  with  phrases  of  the  sec- 
ond. From  it  like  sunshine  from  the  clouds  breaks 
quickly  the  original  merry  trip  of  dance. 

The  full  cycl°  of  main  Scherzo  returns  with  all 
stress  of  storm  and  tragedy.  But  so  fierce  is  the 
tempest  that  we  wonder  how  the  glad  mood  can  pre- 
255 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

vail.  And  the  sad  envoi  returns  and  will  not  be 
shaken  off.  The  sharp  clash  of  fugue  is  rung  again 
and  again,  as  if  the  cup  must  be  drained  to  the  drop. 
Indeed,  the  serious  later  strain  does  prevail,  all  but 
the  final  blare  of  the  saucy  call  of  brass.* 

III.— 4.  Adagietto.\  "Very  slowly"  first  violins 
carry  the  expressive  song  that  is  repeated  by  the 
violas. 

Adngieito 
(Strings  and  harp) 


*  In  the  Scher/o  are  chimes,  accenting  the  tune  of  the 
dance,  and  even  castanets,  besides  triangle  and  other  per- 
cussion. The  second  movement  employs  the  harp  and 
triangle. 

t  The  Adagietto  is  scored  simply  for  harp  and  strings; 
nor  are  the  latter  unusually  divided. 
256 


MAHLER 

A  climax  is  reached  by  all  the  violins  in  unison.  A 
new  glow,  with  quicker  motion,  is  in  the  episode, 
where  the  violins  are  sharply  answered  by  the  violas, 
rising  to  a  dramatic  height  and  dying  away  in  a 
vein  of  rare  lyric  utterance. 

It  is  all  indeed  a  pure  lyric  in  tones. 

///.  —  5.  Hondo-Finale.  The  whole  has  the  dainty, 
light-treading  humor  that  does  not  die  of  its  own 
vehemence.  Somewhat  as  in  the  Xinth  Symphony  of 
Beethoven,  —  tyrant  of  classical  traditions,  the  themes 
appear  right  in  the  beginning  as  if  on  muster-roll, 
each  in  separate,  unattended  song.  A  last  chance 
cadence  passes  down  the  line  of  voices  and  settles 
into  a  comfortable  rhythm  as  prevailing  theme,  run- 
ning in  melodious  extension,  and  merging  after  a 

(  Clarinets,  horns  and  bassoons  )    (Flutes  and  oboes) 
Allegro  commodo  ./ 


. 


hearty  conclusion  in  the  jovially  garrulous  fugue. 

Here  the  counter-theme  proves  to  be  one  of  the  ini- 
tial tunes  and  takes  a  leading  role  until  another 
charming  strain  appears  on  high, — a  pure  nursery 
17  257 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

rhyme  crowning  the  learned  fugue.  Even  this  is  a 
guise  of  one  of  the  original  motives  in  the  mazing 
medley,  where  it  seems  we  could  trace  the  ancestry  of 
each  if  we  could  linger  and  if  it  really  mattered.  And 
yet  there  is  a  rare  charm  in  these  subtle  turns;  it  is 
tihe  secret  relevance  that  counts  the  most 

The  fugue  reaches  a  sturdy  height  with  one  of  the 
first  themes  in  lusty  horns,  and  suddenly  falls  into 
a  pleasant  jingle,  prattling  away  in  the  train  of  im- 
portant figures,  the  kind  that  is  pertinent  with  no 
outer  likeness. 


Qrazioso 


^l^p^^^s^^^^ 

~  -Hr     L-l  HU  TLJ      :jne±±Fg 


(•Strings,  bassoons  and  horns)  •*•• 

Everywhere,  to  be  sure,  the  little  rhythmic  cadence 
appears;  the  whole  sounds  almost  like  the  old  chil- 
dren's canon  on  "Three  Blind  Mice";  indeed  the 
thtmal  inversion  is  here  the  main  tune.  Then  in  the 
bass  the  phrase  sounds  twice  as  slow  as  in  the  horns. 
There  are  capers  and  horseplay;  a  sudden  shift  of 
tone;  a  false  alarm  of  fugue;  suddenly  we  are  back 
in,  the  first  placid  verse  of  the  rhythmic  motive. 

Here  is  a  new  augmentation  in  resonant  horns  and 
middle  strings,  and  the  melodious  extension.  A 
258 


MAHLER 

former  motive  that  rings  out  in  high  reed,  seems  to 
have  the  function  of  concluding  each  episode. 

A  new  stretch  of  fugue  appears  with  new  counter- 
theme,  that  begins  in  long-blown  notes  of  horns.  It 
really  is  no  longer  a  fugue;  it  has  lapsed  into  mere 
smooth-rolling  motion  underneath  a  verse  of  primal 
tune.  And  presently  another  variant  of  graceful  epi- 
sode brings  a  delicious  lilt, — tender,  but  expressive. 

Grazioso  espressivo 

jJL n . - — 


ppi^Tr^^-rffrffrr 

(Strings)  T^^ '    ^^ 


* 


x  x  r         x    j?  x 


With  all  the  subtle  design  there  is  no  sense  of  the 
lamp,  in  the  gentle  murmur  of  quicker  figure  or  melo- 
dious flow  of  upper  theme.  Moving  is  the  lyric  power 
and  sweetness  of  this  multiple  song.  As  to  themal 
relation, — one  feels  like  regarding  it  all  as  inspired 
madrigal,  where  the  maze  and  medley  is  the  thing, 
where  the  tunes  are  not  meant  to  be  distinguished. 
It  becomes  an  abandoned  orgy  of  clearest  counter- 
point. Throughout  is  a  blending  of  fugue  and  of 
children's  romp,  anon  with  the  tenderness  of  lullaby 
and  even  the  glow  of  love-song.  A  brief  mystic  verse, 
with  slow  descending  strain  in  the  high  wood,  pre- 
ludes the  returning  gambol  of  running  strings,  where 
259 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  maze  of  fugue  or  canon  is  in  the  higher  Howing 
song,  with  opposite  course  of  answering  tune,  and  a 
height  of  jolly  revel,  where  the  bright  trumpet  pours 
out  the  usual  concluding  phrase.  The  rhythmic  epi- 
sode, in  whimsical  change,  here  sings  with  surprise 
of  lusty  volume.  So  the  merry  round  goes  on  to  a 
liig  resonant  Amen  of  final  acclaim,  where  the  little 
phrase  steals  out  as  naturally  as  in  the  beginning. 

Then  in  quicker  pace  it  sounds  again  all  about, 
big  andi  little,  and  ends,  after  a  touch  of  modern 
Gallic  scale,  in  opposing  runs,  with  a  last  light,  saucy 
fling. 

Mahler,  we  feel  again,  realizes  all  the  craving  that 
Bruckner  breeds  for  a  kernel  of  feeling  in  the  shell 
of  counterpoint.  Though  we  cannot  deny  a  rude 
breach  of  ancient  rule  and  mode,  there  is  in  Mahler 
a  genuine,  original,  individual  quality  of  polyphonic 
art  that  marks  a  new  stage  since  the  first  in  Bach 
and  a  second  in  Beethoven.  It  is  this  bold  revel  in 
the  neglected  sanctuary  of  the  art  that  is  most  in- 
spiriting for  the  future.  And  as  in  all  true  poetry, 
this  o'erleaping  audacity  of  design  is  a  mere  expres- 
sion of  simplest  gaiety. 


260 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
RICHARD  STRAUSS  * 

MUCH  may  be  wisely  written  on  the  right  limits 
of  music  as  a  depicting  art.  The  distinction  is 
well  drawn  between  actual  delineation,  of  figure  or 
event,  and  the  mere  suggestion  of  a  mood.  It  is  no 
doubt  a  fine  line,  and  fortunately;  for  the  critic  must 
beware  of  mere  negative  philosophy,  lest  what  he 
says  cannot  be  done,  be  refuted  in  the  very  doing. 
If  Lessing  had  lived  a  little  later,  he  might  have 
extended  the  principles  of  his  "  Laocoon  "  beyond 
poetr}'  and  sculpture  into  the  field  of  music.  Difficult 
and  ungrateful  as  is  the  task  of  the  critical  philoso- 
pher, it  must  be  performed.  There  is  every  reason 
here  as  elsewhere  why  men  should  see  and  think 
clearly. 

It  is  perhaps  well  that  audiences  should  cling  to 
the  simple  verdict  of  beauty,  that  they  should  .not  be 
led  astray  by  the  vanity  of  finding  an  answer;  else 
the  composer  is  tempted  to  create  mere  riddles.  So 
we  may  decline  to  find  precise  pictures,  and  content 
ourselves  with  the  music.  The  search  is  really  time 
wasted;  it  is  like  a  man  digging  in  vain  for  gold  and 
missing  the  sunshine  above. 

Strauss  may  have  his  special  meanings.     But  the 

*Born   in   1864. 

261 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

beauty  of  the  work  is  for  us  all-important.  We  may 
expect  him  to  mark  his  scenes.  We  may  not 
care  to  crack  that  kind  of  a  nut.*  It  is  really 
not  good  eating.  Rather  must  we  be  satisfied  with 
the  pure  beauty  of  the  fruit,  without  a  further  hid- 
den kernel.  There  is  no  doubt,  however,  of  the 
ingenuity  of  these  realistic  touches.  It  is  interesting, 
here,  to  contrast  Strauss  with  Berlioz,  who  told  his 
stories  largely  by  extra-musical  means,  such  as  the 
funeral  trip,  the  knell  of  bells,  the  shepherd's  reed. 
Strauss  at  this  point  joins  with  the  Liszt-Wagner 
group  in  the  use  of  symbolic  motives.  Some  of  his 
themes  have  an  effect  of  tonal  word-painting.  The 
roguish  laugh  of  Eulenspiegel  is  unmistakable. 

It  is  in  the  harmonic  rather  than  the  melodic  field 
that  the  fancy  of  Strauss  soars  the  freest.  It  is  here 
that  his  music  bears  an  individual  stamp  of  beauty. 
Playing  in  and  out  among  the  edges  of  the  main  har- 
mony with  a  multitude  of  ornamental  phrases,  he 
gains  a  new  shimmer  of  brilliancy.  Aside  from  in- 
strumental coloring,  where  he  seems  to  outshine  all 
others  in  dazzling  richness  and  startling  contrasts, 
he  adds  to  the  lustre  by  a  deft  playing  in  the  over- 
tones of  his  harmonies,  casting  the  whole  in  warmest 
hue. 

If  we  imagine  the  same  riotous  license  in  the  realm 
of  tonal  noise, — cacophony,  that  is,  where  the  aim  is 
not  to  enchant,  but  to  frighten,  bewilder,  or  amaze; 

*  Strauss    remarked    that    in    Till    Eulenspiegel    he    bad 
given  the  critics  a  hard  nut  to  crack. 
262 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

to  give  some  special  foil  to  sudden  beauty ;  or,  last  of 
all,  for  graphic  touch  of  story,  we  have  another  strik- 
ing element  of  Strauss's  art.  The  anticipation  of  a 
Beethoven  in  the  drum  of  the  Scherzo  of  the  Fifth 
Symphony,  or  the  rhythmic  whims  of  a  Schumann  in 
his  Romantic  piano  pieces  suggest  the  path  of  much 
of  this  license.  Again,  as  passing  notes  may  mn 
without  heed  of  harmony,  since  ancient  days,  so  long 
sequences  of  other  figures  may  hold  their  moving 
organ-point  against  clashing  changes  of  tonality. 

Apart  from  all  this  is  the  modern  "  counterpoint," 
where,  if  it  is  quite  the  real  thing,  Strauss  has  out- 
done the  boldest  dreams  of  ancient  school  men.  But 
with  the  lack  of  cogent  form,  and  the  multitude  of 
small  motives  it  seems  a  different  kind  of  art.  We 
must  get  into  the  view-point  of  romantic  web  of  in- 
finite threads,  shimmering  or  jarring  in  infinite 
antagonism  (of  delayed  harmony).  By  the  same 
process  comes  always  the  tremendous  accumulation 
towards  the  end.  As  the  end  and  essence  of  the 
theme  seems  a  graphic  quality  rather  than  intrinsic 
melody,  so  the  main  pith  and  point  of  the  music 
lies  in  the  weight  and  power  of  these  final  climaxes. 

TOD    UND   VERKLARUNG    (DEATH  AND   TRANS- 
FIGURATION),    TONE    POEM 

It  may  be  well  to  gather  a  few  general  impressions 
before  we  attempt  the  study  of  a  work  radical  in  its 
departure  from  the  usual  lines  of  tonal  design. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  need  of  vigilance  if 
263 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

We  are  to  catch  the  relevance  of  all  the  strains.  To 
be  sure,  perhaps  this  perception  is  meant  to  be  >ut>- 
conscious.  In  any  case  the  consciousness  would  seem 
to  ensure  a  full  enjoyment. 

It  is  all  based  on  the  motif  of  the  Wagner  drama 
and  of  the  Liszt  symphonies,  and  it  is  carried  to 
quite  as  fine  a  point.  Only  here  we  have  no  accom- 
panying words  to  betray  the  label  of  the  theme.  But 
in  the  quick  flight  of  themes,  how  are  we  to  catch  the 
subtle  meaning?  The  inter-relation  seems  as  close 
as  we  care  to  look,  until  we  are  in  danger  of  seeing 
no  woods  for  the  trees. 

Again  the  danger  of  preconception  is  of  the  great- 
est. We  may  get  our  mind  all  an  the  meaning  and 
all  off  the  music.  The  clear  fact  is  the  themes  do 
have  a  way  of  entering  with  an  air  of  significance 
which  they  challenge  us  to  find.  The  greatest  dilli- 
culty  is  to  distinguish  the  themes  that  grow  out  <>f 
each  other,  as  a  rose  throws  off  its  early  petals,  from 
those  that  have  a  mere  chance  similarity.  Even  this 
likeness  may  have  its  own  intended  meaning,  or  it 
may  be  all  beside  the  mark.  But  we  may  lose  not 
merely  the  musical,  but  even  the  dramatic  sequent •«• 
in  too  close  a  poring  over  themal  derivation.  On  the 
other  hand  we  may  defy  the  composer  himself  ami 
take  simply  what  he  gives,  as  if  on  first  performance, 
before  the  commentators  have  had  a  chance  to  lnvc<i. 
And  this  may  please  him  best  in  the  end. 

We  must  always  attend  more  to  the  mood  than 
to  themal  detail  is  everywhere  in  real  music,  after 
264 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

all.  Moments  of  delight  and  triumph  we  know  there 
are  in  this  work.  But  they  are  mere  instants.  For 
it  is  all  the  feverish  dream  of  death.  There  can  be 
no  earlier  rest.  Snatches  they  are  of  fancy,  of  illu- 
sion, as,  says  the  priest  in  (Edipus,  is  all  of  life. 

It  may  be  worth  while,  too,  to  see  how  pairs  of 
themes  ever  occur  in  Strauss,  the  second  in  answer, 
almost  in  protest,  to  the  first.  (It  is  not  unlike  the 
pleading  in  the  Fifth  Symphony  of  the  second  theme 
with  the  sense  of  doom  in  the  first.)  So  we  seem  to 
find  a  motive  of  fate,  and  one  of  wondering,  and 
striving;  a  theme  of  beauty  and  one  of  passion, — if 
we  cared  to  tread  on  such  a  dangerous,  tempting 
ground.  Again,  we  may  find  whole  groups  of  phrases 
expressive  of  one  idea,  as  of  beauty,  and  another  of 
anxious  pursuit.  Thus  we  escape  too  literal  a  themal 
association. 

Trying  a  glimpse  from  the  score  pure  and  simple, 
we  find  a  poem,  opposite  the  first  page,  that  is  said 
to  have  been  written  after  the  first  production.  So, 
reluctantly,  we  must  wait  for  the  mere  reinforce- 
ment of  its  evidence. 

Largo,  in  uncertain  key,  begins  the  throb  of  irregu- 
lar rhythm  (in  strings)  that  Bach  and  Chopin  and 
Wagner  have  taught  us  to  associate  with  suffering. 
The  first  figure  is  a  gloomy  descent  of  pairs  of  chords, 
with  a  hopeless  cry  above  (in  the  flutes).  In  the  re- 
currence, the  turn  of  chord  is  at  last  upward.  A 
warmer  hue  of  waving  sounds  (of  harps)  is  poured 
about,  and  a  gentle  vision  appears  on  high,  shadowed 
265 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


quickly  by  a  theme  of  fearful  wondering.    The  chords 
return  as  at  first.    A  new  series  of  descending  tones 


f-  •»•«.»  -      9m      fa«  -f- 

fc^iijTTrj^^    E^S 


(Harp  with  arpeggio  groups  of  six  to  the  quarter) 

intrude,  with  a  sterner  sense  of  omen,  and  yield  to  a 
full  melodic  utterance  of  longing  (again  with  the 
(Solo  violin  muted) 


(Harp  with  arpeggio  groups  of  six  to  the  quarter) 


1 

(W- 

-* 

^= 

«  

V 
—  I 

r    t 

-* 

T 
1 

^-  —  v. 

266 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

soothing  play  of  harp),  and  in  the  midst  a  fresh 
theme  of  wistful  fear.  For  a  moment  there  is  a 
brief  glimpse  of  the  former  vision.  Now  the  song, 
less  of  longing  than  of  pure  bliss,  sings  free  and 
clear  its  descending  lay  in  solo  violin,  though  an 
answering  phrase  (in  the  horns)  of  upward  striving 
soon  rises  from  below.  The  vision  now  appears 
again,  the  wondering  monitor  close  beside.  The 
melancholy  chords  return  to  dim  the  beauty.  As  the 
descending  theme  recedes,  the  rising  motive  sings 
a  fuller  course  on  high  with  a  new  note  of  eager, 
anxious  fear. 

AH  these  themes  are  of  utmost  pertinence  in  this 
evident  prologue  of  the  story.  Or  at  least  the  germs 
of  all  the  leading  melodies  are  here. 

In  sudden  turn  of  mood  to  high  agitation,  a  stress 
of  wild  desire  rings  out  above  in  pairs  of  sharp 
ascending  chords,  while  below  the  wondering  theme 
rises  in  growing  tumult.  A  whirling  storm  of  the 
two  phrases  ends  in  united  burst  like  hymn  of  battle, 
on  the  line  of  the  wondering  theme,  but  infused  with 


Alia  breve 


(Bass  doubled  below) 
267 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

resistless  energy.  Now  sings  a  new  discourse  of 
warring  phrases  that  are  dimly  traced  to  the  phase  of 
the  blissful  melody,  above  the  theme  of  upward  striv- 


(Answer  in  basses) 

ing.  They  wing  an  eager  course,  undaunted  by  the 
harsh  intruding  chords.  Into  the  midst  presses  the 
forceful  martial  theme.  All  four  elements  are  clearly 
evident.  The  latest  gains  control,  the  other  voices 
for  the  nonce  merely  trembling  in  obedient  rhythm. 
But  a  new  phase  of  the  wistful  motive  appears,  mas- 
terful but  not  overmastering,  fiercely  pressing  up- 
wards,— and  a  slower  of  the  changed  phrase  of  blissful 
song.  The  former  attains  a  height  of  sturdy  ascend- 
ing stride. 

In  spite  of  the  ominous  stress  of  chords  that  grow 
louder  with  the  increasing  storm,  something  of  assur- 
ance comes  with  the  ascending  stride.  More  and 
morQ  this  seems  the  dominant  idea. 

A  new  paroxysm  of  the  warring  themes  rises  to  the 
first  great  climax  where  the  old  symbol  of  wondering 
268 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

and  striving  attains  a  brief  moment  of  assured  ecstatic 
triumph. 

In  a  new  scene  (meno  mosso),  to  murmuring 
strings  (where  the  theme  of  striving  can  possibly  be 
caught)  the  blissful  melody  sings  in  full  song,  undis- 
turbed save  by  the  former  figure  that  rises  as  if  to 
grasp, — sings  later,  too,  in  close  sequence  of  voices. 
After  a  short  intervening  verse — leicht  bewegt — 
where  the  first  vision  appears  for  a  moment,  the 
song  is  resumed,  still  in  a  kind  of  shadowy  chase  of 
slow  flitting  voices,  senza  espressione.  The  rising, 
eager  phrase  is  disguised  in  dancing  pace,  and  grows 
to  a  graceful  turn  of  tune.  An  end  .comes,  poco 
agitato,  with  rude  intrusion  of  the  hymnal  march 
in  harsh  contrast  of  rough  discord;  the  note  of 
anxious  fear,  too,  strikes  in  again.  But  suddenly, 
ctwas  bretier,  a  new  joyous  mood  frightens  away  the 
birds  of  evil  omen. 

Right  in  the  midst  of  happenings,  we  must  be 
warned  against  too  close  a  view  of  individual  theme. 
We  must  not  forget  that  it  is  on  the  contrasted  pairs 
and  again  the  separate  groups  of  phrases,  where  all 
have  a  certain  common  modal  purpose,  that  lies  the 
main  burden  of  the  story.  Still  if  we  must  be  curious 
for  fine  derivation,  we  may  see  in  the  new  tune  of 
exultant  chorus  the  late  graceful  turn  that  now,  re- 
versing, ends  in  the  former  rising  phrase.  Against 
it  sings  the  first  line  of  blissful  theme.  And  the  first 
tune  of  graceful  beauty  also  finds  a  place.  But  they 
269 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

all  make  one  single  blended  song,  full  of  glad  bursts 
and  cadences. 

Hardly  dimmed  in  mood,  it  turns  suddenly  into  a 
phase  of  languorous  passion,  in  rich  setting  of  pulsing 
harp,  where  now  the  later  figures,  all  but  the  blissful 
theme,  vanish  before  an  ardent  song  of  the  wondering 
phrase.  The  motive  of  passionate  desire  rises  and 
falls,  and  soars  in  a  path  of  "  endless  melody,*'  return- 
ing on  its  own  line  of  flight,  playing  as  if  with  its 
shadow,  catching  its  own  echo  in  the  ecstasy  of  chase. 
And  every  verse  ends  with  a  new  stress  of  the  in- 
sistent upward  stride,  that  grows  ever  in  force  and 
closes  with  big  reverberating  blasts.  The  theme  of 
the  vision  joins  almost  in  rough  guise  of  utmost 
speed,  and  the  rude  marching  song  breaks  in;  some- 
how, though  they  add  to  the  maze,  they  do  not  dispel 
the  joy.  The  ruling  phase  of  passion  now  rumbles 
fiercely  in  lowest  depths.  The  theme  of  beauty  rings 
in  clarion  wind  and  strings,  and  now  the  whole  strife 
ends  in  clearest,  overwhelming  hymn  of  triumphant 
gladness,  all  in  the  strides  of  the  old  wondering, 
striving  phrase. 


270 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

The  whole  battle  here  is  won.  Though  former 
moments  are  fought  through  again  (and  new  melodies 
grow  out  of  the  old  plaint),  the  triumphant  shout  is 
near  and  returns  (ever  from  a  fresh  tonal  quarter) 
to  chase  away  the  doubt  and  fear.  All  the  former 
phrases  sing  anew,  merging  the  tale  of  their  strife 
in  the  recurring  verse  of  united  paean.  The  song  at 
last  dies  away,  breaking  like  setting  sun  into  glinting 
rays  of  celestial  hue,  that  pale  away  into  dullest 
murmur. 

Still  one  returning  paroxysm,  of  wild  striving  for 
eluding  bliss,  and  then  comes  the  close.  From  lowest 
depths  shadowy  tones  sing  herald  phrases  against 
dim,  distorted  figures  of  the  theme  of  beauty, — that 
lead  to  a  soft  song  of  the  triumphant  hymn,  tran- 
quillo,  in  gentlest  whisper,  but  with  all  the  sense  of 
gladness  and  ever  bolder  straying  of  the  enchanting 
'  dream.  After  a  final  climax  the  song  ends  in  slow 
vanishing  echoes. 

The  poet  Kitter  is  said  to  have  added,  after  the 
production  of  the  music,  the  poem  printed  on  the 
score,  of  which  the  following  is  a  rather  literal  trans- 
lation : 

In  the  miserable  chamber, 
Dim  with  flick'ring  candlelight, 
Lies  a  man  on  bed  of  aickness. 
Fiercely  but  a  moment  past 
Did  he  wage  with  Death  the  battle; 
Worn  he  sinks  back  into  sleep. 
Save  the  clock's  persistent  ticking 
Not  a  sound  invades  the  room, 
271 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

Where  the  gruesome  quiet  warns  us 
Of  the  neighborhood  of  Death. 
O'er  the  pale,  distended  features 
Plays  a  melancholy  smile. 
Is  he  dreaming  at  life's  border 
Of  his  childhood  golden  days? 

But  a  paltry  shrift  of  sleep 
Death  begrudges  to  his  victim. 
Cruelly  he  wakes  and  shakes  him, 
And  the  fight  begins  anew, — 
Throb  of  life  and  power  of  death, 
And  the  horror  of  the  struggle. 
Neither  wins  the  victory. 
Once  again  the  stillness  reigns. 

Worn  of  battle,  he  relapses 
Sleepless,  as  in  fevered  trance. 
Now  he  sees  before  him  passing 
Of  his  life  each  single  .scene: 
First  the  glow  of  childhood  dawn, 
Bright  in  purest  innocence, 
Then  the  bolder  play  of  youth 
Trying  new  discovered  powers, 
Till  he  joins  the  strife  of  men, 
Burning  with  an  eager  passion 
For  the  high  rewards  of  life. — 
To  present  in  greater  beauty 
What  his  inner  eye  beholds, 
This  is  all  his  highest  purpose 
That  has  guided  his  career. 

Cold  and  scornful  does  the  world 
Pile  the  barriers  to  his  striving. 
Is  he  near  his  final  goal. 
Comes  a  thund'rous  "Halt!  "  to  meet  him. 
272 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

"  Make  the  barrier  a  stepping, 
Ever  higher  keep  your  path." 
Thus  he  presses  on  and  urges, 
Never  ceasing  from  his  aim. — 
What  he  ever  sought  of  yore 
With  his  spirit's  deepeth  longing, 
Now  he  seeks  in  sweat  of  death, 
Seeks — alas!  and  finds  it  never. 
Though  lie  grasps  it  clearer  now, 
Though  it  grows  in  living  form, 
He  can  never  all  achieve  it, 
Nor  create  it  in  his  thought. 
Then  the  final  blow  is  sounded 
From  the  hammer-stroke  of  Death, 
Breaks  the  earthly  frame  asunder, 
Seals  the  eye  with  final  night. 
But  a  mighty  host  of  sounds 
Greet  him  from  the  space  of  heaven 
With  the  song  he  sought  below: 
Man  redeemed, — the  world  transfigured. 

DON  JUAN.      (TONE  POEM.) 

A  score  or  more  of  lines  from  Leiiau's  poem  of 
the  same  title  stand  as  the  subject  of  the  music. 

0  magic  realm,  illimited,  eternal, 

Of  gloried  woman, — loveliness  supernal! 
Fain  would  I,  in  the  storm  of  stressful  bliss, 
Expire  upon  the  last  one's  lingering  kiss! 

Through  every  realm,  O  friend,  would  wing  my  flight, 
Wherever  Beauty  blooms,  kneel  down  to  each, 

And,  if  for  one  brief  moment,  win  delight! 

1  flee  from  surfeit  and  from  rapture's  cloy, 
Keep  fresh  for  Beauty  service  and  employ, 
Grieving  the  One.  that  All  I  may  enjoy. 

18  273 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

My  lady's  charm   to-day  bath  breath  of  spring, 
To-morrow  may  the  air  of  dungeon  bring. 

When  with  the  new  love  won  I  sweetly  wander, 
No  bliss  is  ours  upfurbish'd  and  regilded; 

A  different  love  has  This  to  That  one  yonder, — 
Not  up  from  ruins  be  my  temple  builded. 

Yea  Love  life  is,  and  ever  must  be  now, 
Cannot  be  changed  or  turned  in  new  direction; 
It  must  expire — here  find  a  resurrection; 

And,  if  'tis  real,  it  nothing  knows  of  rue! 
Each  Beauty  in  the  world  is  sole,  unique ; 
So  must  the  love  be  that  would  Beauty  seek! 
So  long  as  Youth  lives  on  with  pulse  afire, 
Out  to  the  chase!     To  victories  new  aspire! 

It  was  a  wond'rous  lovely  storm  that  drove  me: 
Now  it  is  o'er;  and  calm  all  round,  above  me; 

Sheer  dead  is  every  wish;  all  hopes  o'ershrouded, — 
It  was  perhaps  a  flash  from  heaven  descended, 
Whose  deadly  stroke  left  me  with  powers  ended, 

And  all  the  world,  eo  bright  before,  o'erclouded; 
Yet  perchance  not!     Exhausted  is  the  fuel; 
And  on  the  hearth  the  cold  is  fiercely  cruel.* 

In  the  question  of  the  composer's  intent,  of  general 
plan  and  of  concrete  detail,  it  is  well  to  see  that  the 
quotation  from  Lenau's  poem  is  twice  broken  by 
lines  of  omission ;  that  there  are  thus  three  principal 
divisions.  It  cannot  be  wise  to  follow  a  certain  kind 
of  interpretation  t  which  is  based  upon  the  plot  of 
Mozart's  opera.  The  spirit  of  Strauss's  music  is 

*  Translation  by  John  P.  Jackson. 

f  In  a  complex  commentary  William  Mauke  finds  Zerlina, 
Anna  and  "  The  Countess  "  in  the  music. 
274 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

clearly  a.  purely  subjective  conception,  where  the 
symbolic  figure  of  fickle  desire  moves  through  scenes 
of  enchantment  to  a  climax  of — barren  despair. 

To  some  extent  Strauss  clearly  follows  the  separate 
parts  of  his  quotation.  Fervent  desire,  sudden  indif- 
ference are  not  to  be  mistaken. 

The  various  love  scenes  may  be  filled  with  special 
characters  without  great  harm,  save  that  the  mind  is 
diverted  from  a  higher  poetic  view  to  a  mere  concrete 
play  of  events.  The  very  quality  of  the  pure  musical 
treatment  thus  loses  nobility  and  significance.  More- 
over the  only  thematic  elements  in  the  design  are  the 
various  "  motives  "  of  the  hero. 

Allegro  molto  con  brio  begins  the  impetuous  main 
theme  in  dashing  ascent, 


Allegro  molto  con  brio 


whimsical  play 


ff  (Woodwind  doubled  in  higher  8ve.) 
275 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

nut}  masterful  career. 


The  various  phases  are  mingled  in  spirited  song; 
only  the  very  beginning  seems  reserved  as  a  special 
symljol  of  a  turn  in  the  cha.se,  of  the  sudden  flame  of 
desire  that  is  kindled  anew. 

In  the  midst  of  a  fresh  hurst  of  the  main  phrase 
;nv  gentle  strains  of  plaint  (flebile).  And  now  a 
t«-iid«Tlv  sad  motive  in  the  wood  sings  against  the 
marching  phrase,  amidst  a  spray  of  light,  dancing 
chords.  Another  song  of  the  main  theme  is  spent  in 
a  vanishing  tremolo  of  strings  and  harp,  and  buried 
in  a  rich  chord  whence  rises  a  new  song  (inoUo 
rv/*/vxjw'o)  or  rather  a  duet,  the  first  of  the  longer 
love-passages. 

The  main  melody  is  begun  in  clarinet  and  horn  and 
instantly  followed  (as  in  canon)  by  violins.  The 
climax  of  this  impassioned  scene  is  a  titanic  chord 
of  minor,  breaking  the  spell;  the  end  is  in  a  distorted 
strain  of  the  melody,  followed  by  a  listless  refrain  of 
the  (original)  impetuous  motive  (senza  9Sprt98ione). 

The  main  theme  breaks  forth  anew,  in  the  spirit 
276 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

of  the  beginning.  It  yields  suddenly  before  the  next 
episode,  a  languorous  song  of  lower  strings  (molto 
appassionato),  strangely  broken  into  by  sighing 
phrases  in  the  high  wood  (flebile).  After  further 
interruption,,  the  love  song  is  crowned  by  a  broad 
flowing  melody  (sehr  gctragen  und  ausdrucJcsvoU)  — 
the  main  lyric  utterance  of  all.  It  has  a  full  length 
of  extended  song,  proportioned  to  its  distinguished 
beauty.  The  dual  quality  is  very  clear  throughout 
the  scene.  Much  of  the  song  is  on  a  kindred  phrase 
of  the  lyric  melody  sung  by  the  clarinet  with  dulcet 
chain  of  chords  of  harp. 

Here  strikes  a  climatic  tune  in  forte  unison  of  the 
four  horns  (molto  esprcssivo  e  marcato).  It  is  the 
clear  utterance  of  a  new  mood  of  the  hero,  —  a  purely 


(Four  horns  in  unison) 


subjective  phase.  With  a  firm  tread,  though  charged 
with  pathos,  it  seems  what  we  might  venture  to  call 
a  symbol  of  renunciation.  It  is  broken  in  upon  by 
a  strange  version  of  the  great  love  song,  agitato  in 
oboes,  losing  all  its  queenly  pace.  As  though  in  final 
answer  comes  again  the  ruthless  phrase  of  horns,  fol- 
lowed now  by  the  original  theme.  Rapidamentc  in 
full  force  of  strings  comes  the  coursing  strain  of 
impetuous  desire.  The  old  and  the  new  themes  of  the 
277 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

hero  are  now  in  stirring  encounter,  and  the  latter 
seems  to  prevail. 

The  mood  all  turns  to  humor  and  merrymaking. 
In  gay  dancing  trip  serious  subjects  are  treated  jok- 
ingly (the  great  melody  of  the  horns  is  mockingly 
sung  by  the  harp), — in  fits  and  gusts.  At  the  height 
the  (first)  tempestuous  motive  once  more  dashes 
upwards  and  yields  to  a  revel  of  the  (second)  whim- 
sical phrase.  A  sense  of  fated  renunciation  seems  to 
pervade  the  play  of  feelings  of  the  hero.  In  the  lull, 
when  the  paroxysm  is  spent,  the  various  figures  of  his 
past  romances  pass  in  shadowy  review ;  the  first  tear- 
ful strain,  the  melody  of  the  first  of  the  longer  epi- 
sodes,— the  main  lyric  song  (agitato). 

In  the  last  big  flaming  forth  of  the  hero's  passion 
victory  is  once  more  with  the  theme  of  renuncia- 
tion,— or  shall  we  say  of  grim  denial  where  there  is 
no  choice. 

Strauss  does  not  defy  tradition  (or  providence)  by 
ending  his  poem  with  a  triumph.  A  final  elemental 
burst  of  passion  stops  abruptly  before  a  long  pause. 
The  end  is  in  dismal,  dying  harmonies, — a  mere  dull 
sigh  of  emptiness,  a  void  of  joy  and  even  of  the  solace 
of  poignant  grief. 

TILL   EULEK8PIEQEV8   MERRY   PRANKS 
In   the   Manner  of  Ancient  Rogues — In   Rondo   Form 
Hardly   another   subject   could   have    been   more 
happy  for  the  revelling  in  brilliant  pranks  and  con- 
ceits of  a  modern  vein  of  composition.     And  in  the 
278 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

elusive  humor  of  the  subject  is  not  the  least  charm 
and  fitness.  Too  much  stress  has  been  laid  on  the 
graphic  purpose.  There  is  always  a  tendency  to  con- 
strue too  literally.  While  we  must  be  in  full  sym- 
pathy with  the  poetic  story,  there  is  small  need  to  look 
for  each  precise  event.  We  are  tempted  to  go  further, 
almost  in  defiance,  and  say  that  music  need  not  be 
definite,  even  despite  the  composer's  intent.  In  other 
words,  if  the  tonal  poet  designs  and  has  in  mind  a 
group  of  graphic  figures,  he  may  nevertheless  achieve 
a  work  where  the  real  value  and  beauty  lie  in  a  certain 
interlinear  humor  and  poetry, — where  the  labels  can 
in  some  degree  be  disregarded. 

Indeed,  it  is  this  very  abstract  charm  of  music  that 
finds  in  such  a  subject  its  fullest  fitness.  If  we  care 
to  know  the  pranks  exactly,  why  not  turn  to  the  text  ? 
Yet,  reading  the  book,  in  a  way,  destroys  the  spell. 
Better  imagine  the  ideal  rogue,  whimsical,  spritely, 
all  of  the  people  too.  But  in  the  music  is  the  real 
Till.  The  fine  poetry  of  ancient  humor  is  all  there, 
distilled  from  the  dregs  of  folk-lore  that  have  to  us 
lost  their  true  essence.  There  is  in  the  music  a 
daemonic  quality,  inherent  in  the  subject,  that  some- 
how vanishes  with  the  concrete  tale.  So  we  might 
say  the  tonal  picture  is  a  faithful  likeness  precisely 
in  so  far  as  it  does  not  tell  the  facts  of  the  story. 

Indeed,  in  this  mass  of  vulgar  stories  we  cannot 

help  wondering  at  the  reason  for  their  endurance 

through  the  centuries,  until  we  feel  something  of  the 

spirit  of  the  people  in  all  its  phases.    A  true  mirror 

279 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

it  was  of  stupidity  and  injustin-.  pivsi'iiu-d  by  a 
sprite  •>!'  owlish  wisdom,  sporting,  teasing  and  punish- 
ing *  all  about.  It  is  a  kind  of  popular  satin-,  with 
a  strong  personal  element  of  a  human  1'iu-k.  or  an 
impish  liobin  Hood,  with  all  the  fairy  ri'stlc^m'-s. 
mocking  at  human  nit  and  empty  custom. 

It  is  perhaps  in  the  multitude  of  the  stories,  para- 
doxical though  it  seem,  that  lies  the  strength.  In  the 
number  of  them  (ninety-two  "  histories  "  there  are) 
is  an  element  of  universality.  It  is  like  the  broom : 
one  straw  does  not  make,  nor  does  the  loss  of  one 
destroy  it:  somewhere  in  the  mass  lies  the  quality 
of  broom. 

In  a  way  Till  is  the  Ulysses  of  German  folk-lore, 
the  hero  of  trickery,  a  kind  of  lleinecke  Fuclis  in  real 
life.  But  he  is  of  the  soil  as  none  of  the  others.  A 
satyr,  in  a  double  sense,  is  Till :  only  he  is  pure 
Teuton,  of  the  latter  middle  ages. 

He  \&  ever}'  sort  of  tradesman,  from  tailor  to  doc- 
tor. Mam*  of  the  stories,  perhaps  the  best,  are  not 
stories  at  all,  but  merely  clever  sayings.  In  most 
of  the  tricks  there  is  a  Roland  for  an  Oliver.  Till 
stops  at  no  estate;  parsons  are  his  favorite  victim-. 
He  is,  on  the  whole,  in  favor  with  the  people,  though 
he  played  havoc  with  entire  villages.  Once  he  wa- 

*  On  leaving  the  scene  of  some  special  mischief,  Till 
would  draw  a  chalk  picture  of  an  owl  on  the  door,  and 
write  below,  Hie  fuit.  The  edition  of  1519  has  a  woodcut 
of  an  owl  resting  on  a  mirror,  that  was  carved  in  stone, 
the  story  goes,  over  Till's  grave. 
280 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

condemned  to  death  by  the  Liibeck  council.  But  even 
here  it  was  his  enemies,  whom  he  had  defrauded,  that 
sought  revenge.  The  others  excused  the  tricks  and 
applauded  his  escape.  Even  in  death  the  scandal  and 
mischief  do  not  cease. 

The  directions  in  Strauss'  music  are  new  in  their 
kind  and  dignity,  They  belong  quite  specially  to  this 
new  vein  of  tonal  painting.  In  a  double  function, 
they  not  merely  guide  the  player,  but  the  listener 
as  well.  The  humor  is  of  utmost  essence :  the  humor 
is  the  thing,  not  the  play,  nor  the  story  of  each  of 
the  pranks,  in  turn,  of  our  jolly  rogue.  And  the 
humor  lies  much  in  these  words  of  the  composer,  that 
give  the  lilt  of  motion  and  betray  a  sense  of  the 
intended  meaning. 


The  tune,  sung  at  the  outset  gemachlich  (com- 
fortably), is  presumably  the  rogue  motif,  first  in  pure 
innocence  of  mood.  But  quickly  comes  another, 
quite  opposed  in  rhythm,  that  soon  hurries  into  high- . 
est  speed.  These  are  not  the  "  subjects "  of  old 
tradition. 

281 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


And  first  we  are  almost  inclined  to  take  the  "  Rondo 
fonn  "  as  a  new  roguish  prank.  But  we  may  find  a 
form  where  the  subjects  are  independent  of  the  basic 
themes  that  weave  in  and  out  unfettered  by  rule — 
where  the  subject*  are  rather  new  grouping  of  the 
fundamental  symbols.* 

After  a  pause  in  the  furious  course  of  the  second 
theme,  a  quick  piping  phrase  sounds  lustig  (merrily) 
in  the  clarinet,  answered  by  a  chord  of  ominous 

Molto  allegro 
(Clar.) 


token.     But  slowly  do  we  trace  the  laughing  phrase 
to  the  first  theme. 

And  here  is  a  new  whim.  Though  still  in  full  tilt, 
the  touch  of  demon  is  gone  in  a  kind  of  ursine  dog 
of  the  basses.  Merely  jaunty  and  clownish  it  would 
be  but  for  the  mischievous  scream  (of  high  flute) 
at  the  end.  And  now  begins  a  rage  of  pranks,  where 

*  It    is   like   the   Finale   of   Brahms'   Fourth    Symphony, 
where  an  older  form    (of  pa&sacaglia)    is  reared  together 
with  a  later,  one  within  the  other. 
282 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 


the  main  phrase  is  the  rogue's  laugh,  rising  in  bril- 
liant gamut  of  outer  pitch  and  inner  mood. 

At  times  the  humor  is  in  the  spirit  of  a  Jean  Paul, 
playing  between  rough  fun  and  sadness  in  a  fine 
spectrum  of  moods.  The  lighter  motive  dances  harm- 
lessly about  the  more  serious,  intimate  second  phrase. 
There  is  almost  the  sense  of  lullaby  before  the  sudden 
plunge  to  wildest  chaos,  the  only  portent  being  a  con- 
stant trembling  of  low  strings.  All  Bedlam  is  let 
loose,  where  the  rogue's  shriek  is  heard  through  a 
confused  cackling  and  a  medley  of  voices  here  and 
there  on  the  running  phrase  (that  ever  ends  the  sec- 
ond theme).  The  sound  of  a  big  rattle  is  added  to 
the  scene, — where  perhaps  the  whole  village  is  in  an 
uproar  over  some  wholesale  trick  of  the  rogue. 

And  what  are  we  to  say  to  this  simplest  swing  of 
folk-song  that  steals  in  naively  to  enchanting  strum 
of  rhythm.  We  may  speculate  about  the  Till  as  the 


people  saw  him,  while  elsewhere  we  have  the  personal 
view.     The  folk-tunes  may  not  have  a  special  dra- 
matic role.     Out  of  the  text  of  folk-song,  to  be  sure, 
283 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

all  the  strains  are  woven.  Here  and  there  we  have 
the  collective  voice.  If  we  have  watched  keenly,  we 
have  heard  how  the  tune,  simply  though  it  ))ri_rin>.  h;i< 
later  all  the  line  of  Till's  personal  phrase.  Even  in 
the  bass  it  is,  too.  Of  the  same  fibre  is  thi*  demon 
mockery  and  the  thread  of  folk  legend. 

We  cannot  pretend  to  follow  all  the  literal  whims. 
And  it  is  part  of  the  very  design  that  we  are  ever 
surprised  by  new  tricks,  as  by  this  saucy  trip  of  danc- 
ing phrase.  The  purely  human  touches  are  clear, 
and  almost  moving  in  contrast  with  the  impish  humor. 

An  earlier  puzzle  is  of  the  second  theme.  As  the 
composer  has  refused  to  help  us,  he  will  not  quarrel 
if  we  find  our  own  construction.  A  possible  clue  there 
is.  As  the  story  proceeds,  aside  from  the  mere 
abounding  fun  and  poetry,  the  more  serious  tlicmo 
prevails.  Things  are  happening.  And  there  come 
the  tell-tale  directions.  Liebfgliihcnd,  aflame  with 
love,  a  melody  no\v  sings  in  urgent  pace,  ending  with 


Litbrgluhend 


284 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

a  strange  descending  note.  Presently  in  quieter  mood. 
ruhiger,  it  gains  a  new  grace,  merely  to  dash  again, 
mitend,  into  a  fiercer  rage  than  before.  Before  long 
we  cannot  escape  in  all  this  newer  melody  a  mere 
slower  outline  of  the  second  theme.  A  guess  then, 
such  as  the  composer  invites  us  to  make,  is  this : 
It  is  not  exactly  a  Jekyll  and  Hyde,  hut  not  altogether 
different.  Here  (in  the  second  theme,  of  horn)  is 
Till  himself, — not  the  rogue,  but  the  man  in  his 
likes  and  loves  and  suffering.  The  rogue  is  another, 
a  demon  that  possesses  him  to  tease  mankind,  to 
tease  himself  out  of  his  happiness.  During  the  pas- 
sionate episode  the  rogue  is  banned,  save  for  a  grimace 
now  and  then,  until  the  climax,  when  all  in  disguise  of 
long  passionate  notes  of  resonant  bass  the  demon 
theme  has  full  control.  But  for  once  it  is  in  earnest, 
in  dead  earnest.  Ave  might  say.  And  the  ominous 
chord  has  a  supreme  moment,  in  the  shadow  of  the 
fulfilment. 

A  new  note  sounds  in  solemn  legend  of  lowest 
wood,  sadly  beautiful,  with  a  touch  of  funeral  pace.* 

The  impish  laugh  still  keeps  intruding.  But 
throughout  the  scene  it  is  the  Till  motive,  not  the 
rogue,  that  fits  the  stride  of  the  death-march.  To  be 
sure  the  rogue  anon  laughs  bravely.  But  the  other 
figure  is  in  full  view. 

*  Strauss  told  the  writer  that  this  was  the  march  of  the 

jurymen.— "  der    Marsch    dcr    Schvffen."     Reproached    for 

killing  Till,  he  admitted  that  he  had  taken  a  license  with 

the  story  and  added :    "  In  the  epilogue,— there  he  lives." 

285 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


(Lowest  woodwind) 


"  OLJW  t- 


T 


i 


The  sombre  legend  is,  indeed,  in  a  separate  phase, 
its  beauty  now  distorted  in  a  feverish  chase  of  voices 
on  the  main  phrase.  It  is  all  a  second  climax,  of  a 
certain  note  of  terror, — of  fate.  In  the  midst  is  a 
dash  of  the  rogue's  heartiest  laugh,  amid  the  echoes 
of  the  fearful  chord,  while  the  growing  roar  of  the 
mob  can  be  heard  below.  Once  again  it  rings  out 
undaunted,  and  then  to  the  sauciest  of  folk-tunes, 
hichtfertig,  Till  dances  gaily  and  jauntily.  Pres- 
ently, in  a  mystic  passage,  schnell  und  schattenhaft 

Leichtferlig 


^*sfe 


(Strings  reinforced  by 
clarinets  and  horns) 


2Sli 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

(like  fleeting  shadow)  a  phantom  of  the  rogue's  figure 
passes  stealthily  across  the  horizon. 

Etwas  gemacliliclier,  a  graceful  duet  weaves  pret- 
tily out  of  the  Till  motive,  while  the  other  roars  very 
gently  in  chastened  tones  of  softest  horns. 


The  first  course  of  themes  now  all  recurs,  though 
some  of  the  roguery  is  softened  and  soon  trips  into 
purest  folk-dance.  And  yet  it  is  all  built  of  the  rascal 
theme.  It  might  (for  another  idle  guess)  be  a  general 
rejoicing.  Besides  the  tuneful  dance,  the  personal 
phrase  is  laughing  and  chuckling  in  between. 

The  rejoicing  has  a  big  climax  in  the  first  folk-song 
of  all,  that  now  returns  in  full  blast  of  horns  against 
a  united  dance  of  strings  and  wood.  After  a  roll  of 
287 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

drum  loud  clanging  strokes  sound  threatening  (dro~ 
hend)  in  low  bass  and  strings,  to  which  the  rascal 
pipes  his  theme  indifferently  (glcickgiiltig}.  The 
third  time,  his  answer  has  a  simulated  sound  (>///- 
sieUt).  Finally,  on  the  insistent  thud  coin.-  .1 
piteous  phrase  (kliiglich)  in  running  thirds.  The 
dread  chords  at  last  vanish,  in  the  strings.  It  is  u  ry 
like  an  actual,  physical  end.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
the  composer  here  intends  the  death  of  Till,  in  face 
of  the  tradition. 

Follows  the  epilogue,  where  in  the  comfortable 
swing  of  the  beginning  the  first  melody  is  extended 
in  full  beauty  and  significance.  All  tlie  pleasantry  of 
the  rogue  is  here,  and  at  the  end  a  last  fierce  burst 
of  the  demon  lautih. 

"  81  y  FOX  I A  DOME8TICA." 

The  work  followed  a  series  of  tone-poem-  when- 
the  graphic  aim  is  shown  far  l>eyond  the  dreams  rv.-n 
of  a  Berlioz.  It  may  be  said  that  Strauss,  strong 
evidence  to  the  contrary,  does  not  mean  more  than 
a  suggestion  of  the  mood, — that  he  plays  in  the  humor 
and  poetry  of  his  subject  rather  than  depicts  the  lull 
story.  It  is  certainly  better  to  hold  to  this  vi<>\\  a- 
long  as  possible.  The  frightening  penalty  of  tin-  gann- 
of  exact  meanings  is  that  if  there  is  one  here,  there 
must  be  another  there  and  even-where.  Tlu-iv  N  no 
blinking  the  signs  of  some  sort  of  plot  in  our  dom.-— 
tic  symphony,  with  figures  and  situations.  The  best 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

way  is  to  lay  them  before  the  hearer  and  leave  him  to 
his  own  reception. 

In  the  usual  sense,  there  are  no  separate  movements. 
Though  "  Scherzo  "  is  printed  after  the  first  appear- 
ance of  the  three  main  figures,  and  later  "  Adagio  " 
and  "  Finale,"  the  interplay  and  recurrence  of  initial 
themes  is  too  constant  for  the  traditional  division. 
It  is  all  a  closei- woven  drama  in  one  act,  with  rapidly 
changing  scenes.  Really  more  important  than  the 
conventional  Italian  names  are  such  headings  as 
"Wiegenlied"  (Cradle-song),  and  above  all,  the 
numerous  directions.  Here  is  an  almost  conclusive 
proof  of  definite  intent.  To  be  sure,  even  a  figure  on 
canvas  is  not  the  man  himself.  Indeed,  as  music 
approaches  graphic  realism,  it  is  strange  how  painting 
goes  the  other  way.  Or  rather,  starting  from  opposite 
points,  the  two  arts  are  Hearing  each  other.  As  modern 
painting  tends  to  give  the  feeling  of  a  subject,  the 
subjective  impression  rather  than  the  literal  outline, 
we  can  conceive  even  in  latest  musical  realism  the 
"  atmosphere  "  as  the  principal  aim.  In  other  words, 
we  may  view  Strauss  as  a  sort  of  modem  impression- 
ist tone-painter,  and  so  get  the  best  view  of  his 
pictures. 

Indeed,  cacophony  is  alone  a  most  suggestive 
subject.  In  the  first  place  the  term  is  always 
relative,  never  absolute, — relative  in  the  historic 
period  of  the  composition,  or  relative  as  to  the  pur- 
pose. One  can  hardly  say  that  any  combination  of 
notes  is  unusable.  Most  striking  it  is  how  the  same 
19  289 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

group  of  notes  makes  hideous  waste  in.  one  case,  and 
a  true  tonal  logic  in  another.  Again,  what  was  im- 
possible in  Mozart's  time,  may  be  commonplace  to-day. 

You  cannot  stamp  cacophony  as  a  mere  whim  of 
modern  decadence.  Beethoven  made  the  noblest  use 
of  it  and  suffered  misunderstanding.  Bach  has  it  in 
his  scores  with  profound  effect.  And  then  the  -license 
of  one  age  begets  a  greater  in  the  next.  It  is  so  in 
poetry,  though  in  far  lees  degree.  For,  in  music, 
the  actual  tones  are  the  integral  elements  of  the  art. 
They  are  the  idea  itself;  in  poetry  the  words  merely 
suggest  it. 

A  final  element,  independent  of  the  notes  them- 
selves, is  the  official  numbering  of  themes.  Strauss 
indicates  a  first,  second  and  third  theme,  obviously 
of  the  symphony,  not  of  a  single  movement.  The 
whole  attitude  of  the  composer,  while  it  does  not  com- 
pel, must  strongly  suggest  some  sort  of  guess  of 
intending  meaning.* 

•  At  the  first  production,  in  New  York,  in  obedience  to 
the  composer's  wish,  no  descriptive  notes  were  printed. 
When  the  symphony  was  played,  likewise  under  the  com- 
poser's direction,  in  Berlin  in  December,  1904,  a  brief 
note  in  the  program-book  mentions  the  three  groups  of 
themes,  the  husband's,  the  wife's  and  the  child's,  in  the 
first  movement.  The  other  movements  are  thus  entitled: 

IT. — Scherto.  Parents'  happiness.  Childish  play- 
Cradle-song  (the  clock  strikes  seven  in  the  evening). 

III. — Adagio.  Creation  and  contemplation.  Love  scene. 
Dreams  and  cares  (the  clock  strikes  seven  in  the  morning). 

IV. — Finale.  Awakening  and  merry  dispute  (double 
fugue).  Joyous  conclusion. 

290 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 


The  "  first  theme  "  in  ee  comfortable  "  pace,  gliding 


1st  Theme 
Pleasantly 


M  e-c»*€»i*/nijf  ^mmm^^m 

M-±    •  -j-  -»-  -••  f   TnT  *r     ^     ' 


(Ceflos'and  fagots) 


Dreamily 
(Oboe) 


r> 


^ — **  QK> 


(Cellos,  bassoons  and  horas) 
into  a  "  dreamy  "  phrase,  begins  the  symphony.  Pres- 


ently  a  "  peevish  "  cry  breaks  in,  in  sudden  altered 
key;  then  on  a  second,  soothing  tonal  change,  a 
strain  sings  "ardently"  in  upward  wing  to  a  bold 
climax  and  down  to  gentler  cadence,  the  "  peevish  " 
cry  still  breaking  in.  The  trumpet  has  a  short  cheery 
291 


tiYAl PHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


With  fire 


-,  .'  I    »  .     .  h»n»    -    3  .3 

^====^a^-^-  -  -i/resci  !,      g  ^ 


(Strings) 

call  (luftig),  followed  by  a  brisk,  rousing  run  in  wood 
and  strings  (frisch).  A  return  of  the  "comfort- 
able "  phrase  is  quickly  overpowered  by  the  "  second 
theme,''  in  very  lively  manner  (selir  lebhaft),  with  an 
answering  phrase,  grazioso,  and  light  trills  above. 
2d  Theme  With  great  gpirit 


(Strings,  wood,  horns  and  harps) 


:/-= 

!-*•  t  j 


:L 


292 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 


The  incidental  phrases  are  thus  opposed  to  the  main 
humor  of  each  theme.  The  serene  first  melody  has 
"peevish"  interruptions;  the  assertive  second  yields 
to  graceful  blandishments.  A  little  later  a  strain 
appears  gefiihlvoU,  "full  of  feeling,"  (that  plays  a 
frequent  part),  hut  the  main  (second)  theme  breaks 
in  "angrily."  Soon  a  storm  is  brewing;  at  the 
height  the  same  motive  is  sung  insistently.  In  the 
lull,  the  first  phrase  of  all  sings  gaily  (lustig),  and 
then  serenely  (gentachlich)  in  tuneful  tenor.  Various 


(Largely  in  strings) 


parts  of  the  first  theme  are  now  blended  in  mutual 
discourse. 

Amidst  .trembling  strings  the  oboe  d'amore  plays 
the  "  third  theme."    "  Very  tenderly,"  "  quietly,"  the 
3d  Theme  Quietly  (Strings) 


(Oboe  d' Am  ore) 

second  gives  soothing  answer,  and  the  third  sings  a 
full  melodious  verse. 

293 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Here  a  loud  jangling  noise  tokens  important 
arrivals.  Fierce,  hearty  pulling  of  the  door-bell  ex- 
cites the  parents,  especially  the  mother,  who  is  quite 
in  hysterics.  The  father  takes  it  decidedly  more 
calmly.  The  visitors  presently  appear  in  full  view,  so 
to  speak ;  for  "  the  aunts/'  in  the  trumpets,  exclaim : 
"Just  like  Papa,"  and  the  uncles,  in  the  trombones, 
cry:  "Just  like  Mama"  (ganz  die  Mama).  There 
can  be  no  questioning;  it  is  all  written  in  the  book. 

It  is  at  least  not  hazardous  to  guess  the  three  figures 
in  the  domestic  symphony.  Now  in  jolly  Scherzo 
(munter)  begin  the  tricks  and  sport  of  babyhood. 
There  is  of  course  but  one  theme,  with  mere  com- 


Oaily.  Scherzo 


(Strings) 


ments  of  parental  phrases  in  varying  accents  of 
affection.  Another  noisy  scene  mars  all  the  peace; 
father  and  child  have  a  strong  disagreement ;  the  lat- 
ter is  "  defiant " ;  the  paternal  autliority  is  enforced. 
Bed-time  comes  with  the  stroke  of  seven,  a  cradle- 
song  (Wiegenlied)  (where  the  child's  theme  hums 
faintly  below).  Then,  "slowly  and  very  quietly" 
sings  the  "  dreamy  "  phrase  of  the  first  theme,  where 
294 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 
Sather  slowly  (Cradle  song)  (Clarinets  singing) 


r~r 

(Fagots) 


the  answer,  in  sweeping  descent,  gives  one  of  the 
principal  elements  of  the  later  plot.     It  ends  in  a 
moving  bit  of  tune,  "  very  quietly  and  expressively  " 
(sehr  ruhig  und  innig). 
Adagio,  a  slow  rising  strain  plays  in  the  softer 


Very  quietly  and  expressively 


wood-notes  of  flute,  oboe  d'amore,  English  horn,  and 
the  lower  clarinets;  below  sings  gently  the  second 
theme,  quite  transformed  in  feeling.  Those  upper 
notes,  with  a  touch  of  impassioned  yearning,  are  not 
new  to  our  ears.  That  very  rising  phrase  (the 
"  dreamy  "  motive),  if  we  strain  our  memory,  was  at 
first  below  the  more  vehement  (second)  figure.  So 
295 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Adagio 


now  the  whole  tiiemal  group  is  reversed  outwardly  and 
in  the  inner  feeling.  Indeed,  in  other  place*  crops 
out  a  like  expressive  symbol,  and  especially  in  tin 
phrase,  marked  gefilhlvoU.  that  followed  the  second 
theme  in  the  beginning.  All  these  motives  here  find  a 
big  concerted  song  in  quiet  motion,  the  true  lyric 
spot  of  the  symphony. 

Out  of  it  emerges  a  full  climax,  bigger  and  broader 
now.  of  the  first  motive.  At  another  stage  the  second 
has  the  lead;  but  at  the  height  is  a  splendid  verse  «>f 
the  maternal  song.  At  the  end  the  quiet,  blissful  tune 
>ini;>  again  " selir  innig." 

Appassionato  re-enters  the  second  figure.  Mingled 
296 


RICHARD  STRAUSS 

in  its  song  are  the  latest  tune  and  an  earlier  expressive 
phrase  (gefiihlvoll) .  The  storm  that  here  ensues  is 
not  of  dramatic  play  of  opposition.  There  are  no 
"angry"  indications.  It  is  the  full  blossoming  in 
richest  madrigal  of  all  the  themes  of  tenderness  and 
passion  in  an  aureole  of  glowing  harmonies.  The 
morning  comes  with  the  stroke  of  seven  and  the 
awakening  cry  of  the  child. 

The  Finale  begins  in  lively  pace  (selir  lebhaft)  with 

(Double  Fugue)   1st  theme 
(Four  Bassoons) 


filareato 


a  double  fugue,  where  it  is  not  difficult  to  ?ee  in  the 
first  theme  a  fragment  of  the  "  baby  "  motive.  The 
second  is  a  remarkably  assertive  little  phrase  from  the 
cadence  of  the  second  theme  (quoted  above).  The 
son  is  clearly  the  hero,  mainly  in  sportive  humor, 
although  he  is  not  free  from  parental  interference. 
The  maze  and  rigor  of  the  fugue  do  not  prevent  a  fre- 
quent appearance  of  all  the  other  themes,  and  even 
of  the  full  melodies,  of  which  the  fugal  motives  are 
built.  At  the  climax  of  the  fugue,  in  the  height  of 
speed  and  noise,  something  very  delightful  is  happen- 
ing, some  furious  romp,  perhaps,  of  father  and  son, 
the  mother  smiling  on  the  game.  At  the  close  a  new 
melody  that  we  might  trace,  if  we  cared,  in  earlier 
297 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

origin,  has  a  full  verse  "quietly  and  simply  "  (rukig 
und  einfack)  in  Avood  and  horns,  giving  the  crown 

Quietly  and  simply  (Woodwind  and  horns) 


(With  sustained  chord  of  cellos) 


and  seal  to  the  whole.  The  rest  is  a  final  happy  re- 
frain of  all  the  strains,  where  the  husband's  themee 
are  clearly  dominant. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
ITALIAN  SYMPHONIES 

THE  present  estate  of  music  in  Italy  is  an  instance 
of  the  danger  of  prophecy  in  the  broad  realm 
of  art.  Wise  words  are  daily  heard  on  the  rise  and 
fall  of  a  nation  in  art,  or  of  a  form  like  the  sym- 
phony, as  though  a  matter  of  certain  fate,  in  strict 
analogy  to  the  life  of  man. 

Italy  was  so  long  regnant  in  music  that  she  seems 
even  yet  its  chosen  land.  We  have  quite  forgotten 
how  she  herself  learned  at  the  feet  of  the  masters 
from  the  distant  North.  For  music  is,  after  all,  the 
art  of  the  North;  the  solace  for  winter's  desolation; 
an  utterance  of  feeling  without  the  model  of  a  visible 
Nature. 

And  yet,  with  a  prodigal  stream  of  native  melody 
and  an  ancient  passion  of  religious  rapture,  Italy 
achieved  masterpieces  in  the  opposite  fields  of  the 
Mass  and  of  Opera.  But  for  the  more  abstract  plane 
of  pure  tonal  forms  it  has  somehow  been  supposed 
that  she  had  neither  a  power  nor  a  desire  for  expres- 
sion.  An  Italian  symphony  seems  almost  an  anomaly, 
— as  strange  a  product  as  was  once  a  German  opera. 

The  blunt  truth  of  actual  events  is  that  to-day  a 
renascence  has  begun,  not  merely  in  melodic  and 
dramatic  lines;  there  is  a  new  blending  of  the  racial 
299 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

gift  of  song  with  a  power  of  profound  design.*  De- 
spite all  historical  philosophy,  here  is  a  new  gushing 
forth  from  ancient  fount,  of  which  the  world  may 
rejoice  and  be  refreshed. 

In  a  SYMPHONY  BY  GIOVANNI  SGAMBATI.J  IN  D 
MAJOR,  the  form  flows  with  such  unpremeditated  ease 
that  it  seems  all  to  the  manner  born.  It  may  be  a  new 
evidence  that  to-day  national  lines,  at  least  in  art,  are 
vanishing;  before  long  the  national  quality  will  be 
imperceptible  and  indeed  irrelevant. 

To  be  sure  we  see  here  an  Italian  touch  in  the  sim- 
ple artless  stream  of  tune,  the  warm  resonance,  the 
buoyant  spring  of  rhythm.  The  first  movement 
stands  out  in  the  symphony  with  a  subtler  design 
than  all  the  rest,  though  it  does  not  lack  the  ringing 
note  of  jubilation. 

The  Andante  is  a  pure  lyric  somewhat  new  in  de- 
sign and  in  feeling.  It  shows,  too,  an  interest  ing 
contrast  of  opposite  kinds  of  slower  melody, — the  one 
dark-hued  and  legend-like,  from  which  the  poet  wings 
his  flight  to  a  hymnal  rhapsody  on  a  clear  choral 

*  In  the  field  of  the  Lied  the  later  group  of  Italians,  MH-II 
as  Sinigaglia  and  Bossi,  show  a  melodic  spontaneity  ami 
a  breadth  of  lyric  treatment  that  we  miss  in  the  songs  of 
modern  French  composers. 

In  his  Overture  "  Lr  Baruffe  Chiozzotc"  (The  Disputes 
of  the  People  of  Chiozza)  Sinigaglia  has  woven  a  charm- 
ing piece  with  lightest  touch  of  masterly  art;  a  delicate 
humor  of  melody  plays  amid  a  wealth  of  counterpoint  that 
is  all  free  of  a  sense  of  learning. 
v  bum  in  1843. 

300 


ITALIAN  SYMPHONIES 

theme,  with  a  rich  setting  of  arpeggic  harmonies. 
A  strange  halting  or  limping  rhythm  is  continued 
throughout  the  former  subject.  In  the  big  climax  the 
feeling  is  strong  of  some  great  chant  or  rite,  of  ves- 
pers or  Magnificat.  Against  convention  the  ending 
returns  to  the  mood  of  sad  legend. 

The  Scherzo  is  a  sparkling  chain  of  dancing  tunes 
of  which  the  third,  of  more  intimate  hue,  somehow 
harks  back  to  the  second  theme  of  the  first  movement. 

A  Trio,  a  dulcet,  tender  song  of  the  wood,  precedes 
the  return  of  the  Scherzo  that  ends  with  the  speaking 
cadence  from  the  first  Allegro. 

A  Serenata  must  be  regarded  as  a  kind  of  Inter- 
mezzo, in  the  Cantilena  manner,  with  an  accompany- 
ing rhythm  suggesting  an  ancient  Spanish  dance. 
It  stands  as  a  foil  between  the  gaiety  of  the  Scherzo 
and  the  jubilation  of  the  Finale. 

The  Finale  is  one  festive  idyll,  full  of  ringing  tune 
and  almost  bucolic  lilt  of  dance.  It  reaches  one  of 
those  happy  jingles  that  we  are  glad  to  hear  the  com- 
poser singing  to  his  heart's  content. 

OIUHEPPE    MARTUCCL     8YMPHONY   IN    D    MINOR.* 

The  very  naturalness,  the  limpid  flow  of  the  melodic 
thought  seem  to  resist  analysis  of  the  design.  The 
listener's  perception  must  be  as  naive  and  spontaneous 
as  was  the  original  conception. 

There  is,  on  the  one  hand,  no  mere  adoption  of  a 

•Giuseppe  Martucci,   1856-1911. 
301 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

classical  schedule  of  form,  nor,  on  the  other,  the 
over-subtle  workmanship  of  modern  schools.  Fresh 
and  resolute  begins  the  virile  theme  with  a  main 
charm  in  the  motion  itself.  It  lies  not  in  a  tune 
here  or  there,  but  in  a  dual  play  of  responsive  phrases 
at  the  start,  and  then  a  continuous  flow  of  further 
melody  on  the  fillip  of  the  original  rhythm,  inde- 
finable of  outline  in  a  joyous  chanting  of  bass  and 
treble. 

A  first  height  reached,  an  expressive  line  in  the 
following  lull  rises  in  the  cellos,  that  is  the  essence 
of  the  contrasting  idea,  followed  straightway  by  a 
brief  phrase  of  the  kind,  like  some  turns  of  peasant 
song,  that  we  can  hear  contentedly  without  ceasing. 


(Cellos) 


(Lower  reed,  horns  and  strings) 


Again,  as  at  the  beginning,  such  a  wealth  of  melo- 
dies sing  together  that  not  even  the  composer  could 
know  which  he  intended  in  chief.  We  merely  feel, 
instead  of  the  incisive  ring  of  the  first  group, a  quieter 
power  of  soothing  beauty.  Yet,  heralded  by  a  prelude 
of  sweet  strains,  the  expressive  line  now  enters  like 
a  queenly  figure  over  a  new  rhythmic  motion,  and 
302 


$mX.;\  ITALIAN  SYMPHONIES 

flows  on  through  delighting  glimpses  of  new  harmony 
to  a  striking  climax. 

(Flute  and  oboe,  doubled  below  in  clarinet) 


__    _  _      P  M  i  N^.  Is  J 


(Strings) 


The  story,  now  that  the  characters  have  appeared, 
continues  in  the  main  with  the  second  browsing  in 
soft  lower  strings,  while  the  first  (in  its  later  phase) 
sings  above  in  the  wood  transformed  in  mildness, 
though  for  a  nonce  the  first  motive  strikes  with  de- 
cisive vigor.  Later  is  a  new  heroic  mood  of  minor, 
quickly  softened  when  the  companion  melody  appears. 
A  chapter  of  more  sombre  hue  follows,  all  with  the 
lilt  and  pace  of  romantic  ballad.  At  last  the  main 
hero  returns  as  at  the  beginning,  only  in  more  splen- 
did panoply,  and  rides  on  'mid  clattering  suite  to 
passionate  triumph.  And  then,  with  quieter  charm, 
sings  again  the  second  figure,  with  the  delighting 
strains  again  and  again  rehearsed,  matching  the  other 
with  the  power  of  sweetness. 

One  special  idyll  there  is  of  carolling  soft  horn  and 

clarinet,  where  a  kind  of  lullaby  flows  like  a  distilled 

essence  from  the  gentler  play—  of  the  heroic  tune, 

before   its   last  big  verse,    with   a   mighty   flow  of 

303 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

dolce  e  tranquillo 

(Horn)  (Two  horns) 


-* 

f  r  f-frf  ffff  TLT*  * 


(Clarmet) 

sequence,  and  splendidly  here  the  second  figure  crowns 
the  pageant.  At  the  passionate  height,  over  long 
ringing  chord,  the  latter  sings  a  sonorous  line  in 
lengthened  notes  of  the  wood  and  horns.  The  first 
climax  is  here,  in  big  coursing  strains,  then  it  slowly 
lulls,  with  a  new  verse  of  the  idyll,  to  a  final  hush. 

The  second  movement  is  a  brief  lyric  with  one  main 
melody,  sung  at  first  by  a  solo  cello  amidst  a  weaving 
of  muted  strings;  later  it  is  taken  up  by  the  first 
violins.  The  solo  cello  returns  for  a  further  song  in 
duet  with  the  violins,  where  the  violas,  too,  entwine 
their  melody,  or  the  cello  is  joined  by  the  violins. 

Now  the  chief  melody  returns  for  a  richer  and 
varied  setting  with  horns  and  woodwind.  At  last  the 
first  violins,  paired  in  octave  with  the  cello,  sing  the 
full  melody  in  a  madrigal  of  lesser  strains. 

An  epilogue  answers  the  prologue  of  the  beginning 

Equally  brief  is  the  true  Scherzo,  though  merely 
entitled  Allegretto,  —  a  dainty  frolic  without  the  heavy 
brass,  an  indefinable  conceit  of  airy  fantasy,  with  here 
and  there  a  line  of  sober  melody  peeping  between  the 
mischievous  pranks.  There  is  no  contrasting  Trio 
in  the  middle;  but  just  before  the  end  comes  a 
304 


ITALIAN  SYMPHONIES 


quiet  pace  as  of  mock-gravity,  before  a  final  scamper. 

A  preluding  fantasy  begins  in  the  mood  of  the 
early  Allegro;  a  wistful  melody  of  the  clarinet  plays 
more  slowly  between  cryptic  reminders  of  the  first 
theme  of  the  symphony.  In  sudden  Allegro  risohtto 
over  rumbling  bass  of  strings,  a  mystic  call  of  horns, 
harking  far  back,  spreads  its  echoing  ripples  all  about 
till  it  rises  in  united  tones,  with  a  clear,  descending- 
answer,  much  like  the  original  first  motive.  The 
latter  now  continues  in  the  bass  in  large  and  smaller 
pace  beneath  a  new  tuneful  treble  of  violins,  while 
the  call  still  roams  a  free  course  in  the  wind.  Oft 
repeated  is  this  resonation  in  paired  harmonies,  the 
lower  phrase  like  an  "  obstinate  bass." 

Leaving  the  fantasy,  the  voices  sing  in  simple  choral 
lines  a  hymnal  song  in  triumphal  pace,  with  firm 
cadence  and  answer,  ending  at  length  in  the  descend- 


Allegro  risoluio    . 


(Strings,  with  added  wood  and  horns) 


ing  phrase.     The  full  song  is  repeated,  from   the 
entrance  of  the  latter,  as  though  to  stress  the  two 
main  melodies.     The  marching  chorus  halts  briefly 
20  305 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

when  the  clarinet  begins  again  a  mystic  verse  on  the 
strain  of  the  call,  where  the  descending  phrase  is 
intermingled  in  the  horns  and  strings. 

There  is  a  new  horizon  here.  We  ran  no  longer 
speak  with  half-condescension  of  Italian  simplicity, 
though  another  kind  of  primal  feeling  is  mingled  in 
a  breadth  of  symphonic  vein.  We  feel  that  our  Ital- 
ian poet  has  cast  loose  his  leading  strings  and  is 
revealing  new  glimpses  through  the  classic  form. 

Against  a  free  course  of  quicker  figures  rises  in  the 
horns  the  simple  melodic  call,  with  answer  and 
counter-tunes  in  separate  discussion.  Here  comes 
storming  in  a  strident  line  of  the  inverted  melody 
in  the  bassoon,  quarrelling  with  the  original  motive 
in  the  clarinet.  Then  a  group  sing  the  song  in  danc- 
ing trip,  descending  against  the  stern  rising  theme 
of  violas ;  or  one  choir  follows  on  the  heels  of  another. 
Now  into  the  play  intrudes  the  second  melody,  like- 
wise in  serried  chase  of  imitation. 

The  two  themes  seem  to  be  battling  for  dominance, 
and  the  former  wins,  shouting  its  primal  tune  in  brass 
and  wood,  while  the  second  sinks  to  a  rude  clattering 
rhythm  in  the  bass.  But  out  of  the  clash,  where  the 
descending  phrase  recurs  in  the  basses,  the  second 
melody  emerges  in  full  sonorous  song.  Suddenly  at 
the  top  of  the  verse  rings  out  in  stentorian  brass  the 
first  theme  of  all  the  symphony  to  the  opening  chord 
of  the  Finale,  just  as  it  rang  at  the  climax  in  the 
beginning. 

306 


ITALIAN  SYMPHONIES 

A  gentle  duet  of  violins  and  clarinet  seems,  to 
bring  back  the  second  melody  of  the  first  movement, 
and  somehow,  in  the  softer  mood,  shows  a  likeness 
with  the  second  of  the  Finale.  For  a  last  surprise, 
the  former  idyll  (of  the  first  Allegro)  returns  and 
clearly  proves  the  original  guise  of  our  latest  main 
melody.  As  though  to  assure  its  own  identity  as  pre- 
vailing motto,  it  has  a  special  celebration  in  the 
final  joyous  revel. 


307 


CHAPTER  XX 
EDWARD  ELGAR.  AN  ENGLISH  SYMPHONY* 

THERE  is  a  rare  nobility  in  the  simple  melody, 
the  vein  of  primal  hymn,  that  marks  the  invo- 
cation,— in   solemn   wood   against   stately   stride  of 

(Andnnte  nobilmmlc  e  semplice) 
(Woodwind) 


ConSve. 
(Basses  of  string*,  staccato) 

lower  strings.  A  true  ancient  charm  is  in  the  tune, 
with  a  fervor  at  the  high  point  and  a  lilt  almost  of 
lullaby, — till  the  whole  chorus  begins  anew  as  though 
the  song  of  marching  hosts.  Solemnity  is  the  essence 
here,  not  of  artificial  ceremony  nor  of  rhymeless  chant, 
— rather  of  prehistoric  hymn. 

In  passionate  recoil  is  the  upward  storming  song 
(Allegro)  where  a  group  of  horns  aid  the  surging 
crest  of  strings  and  wood, — a  resistless  motion  of 
massed  melody.  Most  thrilling  after  the  first  climax 
is  the  sonorous,  vibrant  stroke  of  the  bass  in  the 

•Symphony  in  A  flat.     Edward  Elgar,  born  in  1857. 
308 


EDWARD  ELGAR 
Allegro  appassionato 


(Strings,  wood  and  horns) 


(See  page  308,  line  10.) 

recurring  melody.  As  it  proceeds,  a  new  line  of 
bold  tune  is  stirred  above,  till  the  song  ends  at  the 
highest  in  a  few  ringing,  challenging  leaps  of  chord, — 
ends  or,  rather  merges  in  a  relentless,  concluding 
descent.  Here,  in  a  striking,  phrase  of  double 
(Violins  and  clarinets  in  succession) 


m 

"*-                   1—, 

*        P                    *                   P 

>  •  i  p  r  f 

i 

•^ 

V^r^ 

(Strings,  the  upper  3d  doubled  in  higher  reed) 


.SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

song,  is  a  touch  of  plaint  that,  hushing,  heralds 
the  coming  gentle  figure.  We  are  sunk  in  a  sweet 
romance,  still  of  ancientest  lore,  with  a  sense  of  lost 
bliss  in  the  wistful  cadence.  Or  do  these  entrancing 
strains  lead  merely  to  the  broader  melody  that  moves 
with  queenly  tread  (of  descending  violins)  above  a 
soft  murmuring  of  lower  figures?  It  is  taken  up 


(Violins) 


'         r    " 
(Harp  and  wood 

doubled  above) 
.,  ! 


in  a  lower  voice  and  risen  to  a  height  of  inner  throb 
rather  than  of  outer  stress.  The  song  departs  as  it 
came,  through  the  tearful  plaint  of  double  phrase. 
Bolder  accents  merge  suddenly  into  the  former  im- 
passioned song.  Here  is  the  real  sting  of  warrior 
call,  with  shaking  brass  and  rolling  drum,  in  length- 
ened swing  against  other  faster  sounds, — a  revel  of 
heroics,  that  at  the  end  breaks  afresh  into  the  regular 
song. 

Yet  it  is  all  more  than  mere  battle-music.  For  here 

is  a  new  passionate  vehemence,  with  loudest  force  of 

vibrant  brass,  of  those  dulcet  strains  that  preceded 

the  queenly  melody.     An  epic  it  is,  at  the  least,  of 

310 


EDWARD  ELGAR 

ancient  flavor,  and  the  sweeter  romance  here  rises 
to  a  tempest  more  overpowering  than  martial  tumult. 
It  is  in  the  harking  back  to  primal  lore  that  we 
seem  to  feel  true  passion  at  its  best  and  purest, 
as  somehow  all  truth  of  legend,  proverb  and  fable 
has  come  from  those  misty  ages  of  the  earth.  The 
drooping  harmonies  merge  in  the  returning  swing  of 
the  first  solemn  hymn, — a  mere  line  that  is  broken  by 
a  new  tender  appeal,  that,  rising  to  a  moving  height, 


yields  to  the  former  plaint  (of  throbbing  thirds). 

A  longer  elegy  sings,  with  a  fine  poignancy,  bold 
and  new  in  the  very  delicacy  of  texture,  in  the  sharp 
impinging  of  these  gentlest  sounds.  In  the  depths 
of  the  dirge  suddenly,  though  quietly,  sounds  the 
herald  melody  high  in  the  wood,  with  ever  firmer 
cheer,  soon  in  golden  horns,  at  last  in  impassioned 
strings,  followed  by  the  wistful  motive. 

A  phase  here  begins  as  of  dull  foreboding,  with  a 
new  figure  stalking  in  the  depths  and,  above,  a  brief 
sigh  in  the  wind.  In  the  growing  stress  these  figures 
311 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

sing  from  opposite  quarters,  the  sobbing  phrase 
holow,  when  suddenly  the  queenly  melody  st.ills  the 
tumult.  It  is  answered  by  a  dim,  slow  line  of  the 
ominous  motive.  Quicker  echoes. of  the  earlier  de- 
spond still  flit  here  and  there,  with  gleams  of  joyous 
light.  The  plaintive  (dual)  song  returns  and  too 
the  tender  appeal,  which  with  its  sweetness  at  last 
wakens  the  buoyant  spirit  of  the  virile  theme. 

And  so  pass  again  the  earlier  phases  of  resolutio?i 
with  the  masterful  conclusion;  the  tearful  accents: 
the  brief  verse  of  romance,  and  the  sweep  of  queenly 
figure,  rising  again  to  almost  exultation.  But  here, 
instead  of  tears  and  recoil,  is  the  brief  sigh  over  som- 
bre harmonies,  rising  insistent  in  growing  volume  that 
somehow  conquers  its  own  mood.  A  return  of  the 
virile  motive  is  followed  at  the  height  by  the  throb- 
bing dual  song  with  vehement  stress  of  grief,  falling 
to  lowest  echoes. 

Here  begins  the  epilogue  with  the  original  solemn 
iliyinn.  Only  it  is  now  entwined  with  shreds  and 
memories  of  romance,  flowing  tranquilly  on  through 
gusts  of  passion.  And  there  is  the  dull  sob  with 
the  sudden  gleam  of  joyous  light.  But  the  hymn 
returns  like  a  sombre  solace  of  oblivion, — though  there 
is  a  final  strain  of  the  wistful  romance,  ending  in 
sad  harmony. 

11. — Allegro    molio.      The    Scherzo    (as    we    may 

venture   to   call   it)    begins   with   a  breath  of  new 

harmony,  or  is  it  a  blended  magic  of  rhythm,  tune 

and  chord?     Far  more  than  merely  bizarre,  it  calls 

312 


EDWARD  ELGAR 


up  a  vision  of  Celtic  warriors,  the  wild,  free  spirit  of 
Northern  races.  The  rushing  jig  or  reel  is  halted 
Allegro molto  __ 


(Strings  with 
kettle-drum) 

anon  by  longer  notes  in  a  drop  of  the  tune  and  in- 
stantly returns  to  the  quicker  run.  Below  plays  a 
kind  of  drum-roll  of  rumbling  strings.  Other  revel- 
ling pranks  appear,  of  skipping  wood,  rushing  harp 
and  dancing  strings,  till  at  last  sounds  a  clearer  tune, 
a  restrained  war-march  with  touch  of  terror  in  the 
soft  subdued  chords,  suddenly  growing  to  expressive 
(Violas  and  clarinets) 


^       '  V 
(Wood,  basses  and  strings) 

volume  as  it  sounds  all  about,  in  treble  and  in  bass. 

At  last  the  war-song  rings  in  full  triumphant  blast, 

where  trumpets  and  the  shrill  fife  lead,  and  the  lower 

brass,  with  cymbals  and  drums  (big  and  little)  mark 

313 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  march.  Then  to  the  returning  pranks  the  tune 
roars  in  low  basses  and  reedj,  and  at  last  a  big  con- 
clusive phrase  descends  from  the  height  to  meet  the 
rising  figure  of  the  basses. 

Now  the  reel  dances  in  furious  tumult  (instead 
of  the  first  whisper)  and  dies  down  through  the  slower 
cadence. 

An  entirely  new  scene  is  here.  To  a  blended  tinkle 
of  harp,  reeds  and  high  strings  sounds  a  delicate  air, 
quick  and  light,  yet  with  a  tinge  ot  plaint  that  may 
be  a  part  of  all  Celtic  song.  It  were  rude  to  spoil 


(Woodwind,  with  a  triplet 

pulse  of  harp  and  rhythmic  strings) 

its  fine  fragrance  with  some  rough  title  of  meaning; 
nor  do  we  feel  a  strong  sense  of  romance,  rather  a 
whim  of  Northern  fantasy. 

Over  a  single  note  of  bass  sings  a  new  strain  of 
elegy,  taken  up  by  other  voices,  varying  with  the 


(Clarinets) 

tinkling  air.  Suddenly  in  rushes  the  first  reel,  softly 
as  at  first;  but  over  it  sing?  still  the  new  sad  tune, 
then  yields  to  the  wild  whims  and  pranks  that  lead  t« 
the  war-song  in  resonant  chorus,  joined  at  the  height 
314 


EDWARD  ELGAR 

by  the  reel  below.  They  change  places, '  the  tune 
ringing  in  the  bass.  In  the  martial  tumult  the  tink- 
ling ,air  is  likewise  infected  with  saucy  vigor,  but 
suddenly  retires  abashed  into  its  shell  of  fairy  sound, 
and  over  it  sings  the  elegy  in  various  choirs.  The 
tinkling  melody  falls  suddenly  into  a  new  flow  of 
moving  song,  rising  to  pure  lyric  fervor.  The  soft 
air  has  somehow  the  main  say,  has  reached  the  high 
point,  has  touched  the  heart  of  the  movement.  Ex- 
pressively it  slowly  sinks  away  amid  echoing  phrases 
and  yields  to  the  duet  of  elegy  and  the  first  reel. 
But  a  new  spirit  has  appeared.  The  sting  of  war-song 
is  gone.  And  here  is  the  reel  in  slow  reluctant  pace. 
After  another  verse  of  the  fairy  tune,  the  jig  plays 
still  slower,  while  above  sings  a  new  melody.  Still 
slower  the  jig  has  fallen  almost  to  funeral  pace,  has 
grown  to  a  new  song  of  its  own,  though,  to  be  sure, 
brief  reminders  of  the  first  dance  jingle  softly  here 
and  there.  And  now  the  (hushed)  shadow  of  the 
war-song  in  quite  slower  gait  strides  in  lowest  basses 
and  passes  quietly  straight  into  the  Adagio. 

(Strings  with  lower  reeds  and  horns) 
Adagio 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

///. — Assured  peace  is  in  the  simple  sincere 
melody,  rising  to  a  glow  of  passion.  But — is  this 
a  jest  of  our  poet  ?  Or  rather  now  we  see  why  there 
M-as  no  halt  at  the  end  of  the  Scherzo.  For  the 
soothing  melody  is  in  the  very  notes  of  the  impish 
reel, — is  the  same  tune.*  Suddenly  hushing,  the 
song  hangs  on  high  over  delicate  minor  harmonies. 

In  exquisite  hues  an  intimate  dialogue  ensues, 
almost  too  personal  for  the  epic  vein,  a  discourse  or 
madrigal  of  finest  fibre  that  breaks  (like  rays  of  set- 
ting sun)  into  a  melting  cadence  of  regret.  We  are 
doubly  thrilled  in  harking  back  to  the  sweet,  wistful 
romance,  the  strain  of  the  first  movement. 


(Harp,  wood  and  strings) 

Across  the  gauzy  play,  horns  and  wood  blow  a  slow 
phrase,  like  a  motto  of  Fate  in  the  sombre  harmony, 
with  one  ardent  burst  of  pleading. 

•  There  seems  to  be  shown  in  this  feat  at  once  the  versa- 
tility of  music  as  well  as  the  musician  in  expressing  oppo- 
site moods  by  the  same  theme.  The  author  does  not  feel 
bound  to  trace  all  such  analogies,  as  in  the  too  close 
pursuit  we  may  lose  the  fewest  in  the  jungle. 
316 


EDWARD  ELGAR 

In  clearer  articulation  sings  a  dual  song,  still 
softly  overcast  with  sweet  sadness,  ever  richer  in  the 
harmonies  of  multiple  strings,  tipped  with  the 
light  mood,  —  and  again  the  wistful  cadence.  Siren 
figures  of  entrancing  grace  that  move  amid  the 
other  melody,  bring  enchantment  that  has  no  cheer, 
nor  escape  the  insistent  sighing  phrase.  Once  more 
come  the  ominous  call  and  the  passionate  plea,  then 
assurance  with  the  returning  main  melody  in  renewed 
fervor.  Phases  of  dual  melody  end  again  with  the 
wistful  cadence.  The  tranquil  close  is  like  one  sus- 
tained fatal  farewell,  where  the  fairy  figures  but 
stress  the  sad  burden. 

IV.  —  The  beginning  is  in  lowest  depths  (Largo). 
First  is  the  stalking  figure  of  earliest  movement, 
from  the  moment  of  despond.  It  is  answered  by  a 
steadily  striding  theme,  almost  martial,  save  for  the 


Mo      j      ^      .  j      .        I      I    j    J>      I 

^^'^^^••=*=*      -=*=  == 

(Fizz,  cellos  with  stacc.  bassoons) 

slowness  of  pace.  Xot  unlike  the  hymn  of  the  first 
prologue  in  line  of  tune,  it  bears  a  mood  of  dark 
resignation  that  breaks  presently  into  the  touching 
plea  of  the  wistful  cadence. 

The  whole  is  a  reflective  prologue  to  the  Finale: 

a  deep  meditation  from  which  the  song  may  roll  forth 

on  new  spring.    The  hymn  has  suddenly  entered  with 

a  subtly  new  guise;  for  the  moment  it  seems  part 

317 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

of  the  poignant  sigh ;  it  is  as  yet  submerged  in  a  flood 
of  gloom  and  regret;  and  the  former  phrases  still 
stride  and  stalk  below.  In  a  wild  climax  of  gloom 
we  hear  the  former  sob,  earlier  companion  of  the 
stalking  figure. 

Hymnal  strains  return, — flashes  of  heavenly  light 
in  the  depths  of  hell,  and  one  passionate  sigh  of  the 
melting*  cadence. 

Allegro, — we- are  carried  back  to  the  resolute  vigor 
of  the  earlier  symphony,  lacking  the  full  fiery  charm, 
but  ever  striving  and  stirring,  like  Titans  rearing 
mountain  piles,  not  without  the  cheer  of  toil  itself. 
At  the  height  comes  a  burst  of  the  erst  yearning 
cadence,  but  there  is  a  new  masterful  accent;  the 
wistful  edge  does  not  return  till  the  echoing  phrases 
gink  away  in  the  depths. 

A  new  melody  starts  soaring  on  the  same  wing  of 


(Strings  and  clarinets) 
AUegro 


f)  cantnbiU  ^=^     f 


(Staccato  strings  con  8vt.) 


blended  striving  and  yearning  of  which  all  this  song 
is  fraught.    In  its  broader  sweep  and  brighter  cheer  it 
is  like  the  queenly  melody  of  the  first  movement. 
The  Titan  toil  stirs  strongly  below  the  soft  cadence ; 
318 


EDWARD  ELGAR 

the  full,  fierce  ardor  mounts  heavenward.  Phases 
now  alternate  of  insistent  rearing  on  the  strenuous 
motive  and  of  fateful  submission  in  the  marching 
strain,  that  is  massed  in  higher  and  bigger  chorus. 
As  gathers  the  stress  of  climax,  the  brass  blowing 
a  defiant  blast,  the  very  vehemence  brings  a  new 
resolution  that  is  uttered  in  the  returning  stren- 
uous phrase. 

Again  rises  the  towering  pile.  At  the  thickest  the 
high  horns  blow  loud  a  slow,  speaking  legend, — the 
farewell  motive,  it  seems,  from  the  end  of  Adagio, 
fierce  energy  struggling  with  fatal  regret  gnawing 
at  the  heart. 

Gripping  is  the  appeal  of  the  sharp  cry  almost  of 
anguish  into  which  the  toiling  energy  is  suddenly 
resolved.  Again  the  fateful  march  enters,  now  in 
heroic  fugue  of  brass  and  opposite  motion  of  strings 
and  reed, — all  overwhelmed  with  wild  recurring  pangs 
of  regret. 

And  so  "  double,  double,  toil  and  trouble,"  on  goes 
the  fugue  and  follows  the  arduous  climb  (into  the  sad 
motto  in  the  horns),  each  relieving  the  other,  till  both 
yield  again  to  the  heart-breaking  cry. 

The  cheerier  melody  here  re-enters  and  raises  the 
mood  for  the  nonce.  Soon  it  falls  amid  dim  harmon- 
ies. Far  in  the  depths  now  srrowls  the  dull  tread,  an- 
swered by  perverted  line  of  the  hymn. 

A  mystic  verse  sounds  over  pious  chords  of  harp  in 
the  tune  of  the  march,  which  is  sung  by  antiphonal 
choirs  of  strings, — later  with  fuller  celestial  chorus, 
319 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

almost  in  rapture  of  heavenly  resignation.  Only  it 
is  not  final;  for  once  again  returns  the  full  struggle 
of  the  beginning,  with  the  farewell-legend,  and  in 
highest  passion  the  phrase  of  regret  rung  again  and 
again — till  it  is  soothed  by  the  tranquil  melody.  The 
relentless  stride  of  march  too  reaches  a  new  height, 
and  one  last,  moving  plaint.  When  the  fast  chasing 
cries  are  in  closest  tangle,  suddenly  the  hymn  pours 
out  its  benediction,  while  the  cries  have  changed  to 
angelic  acclaim.  Here  is  the  transfigured  songi  in 
full  climactic  verse  that  fulfils  the  promise  of  the 
beginning.  A  touch  of  human  (or  earthly  joy)  is 
added  in  an  exultant  strain  of  the  sweeping  melody 
that  unites  with  the  hymn  at  tire  close. 


320 


CHAPTER  XXI 
SYMPHONIES  IX  AMERICA 

WHEN  we  come  to  a  view  of  modern  music  in 
symphonic  design,  written  in  America,  we 
are  puzzled  by  a  new  phase  of  the  element  of  national- 
ism. For  here  are  schools  and  styles  as  different 
as  of  far  corners  of  Europe.  Yet  they  can  be  called 
nothing  else  than  American,  if  they  must  have  a 
national  name.  In  the  northern  centre  whence  a 
model  orchestra  has  long  shed  a  beneficent  influence 
far  afield,  the  touch  of  new  French  conceits  has 
colored  some  of  the  ablest  works.  Elsewhere  we  have 
cited  a  symphony  more  in  line  with  classical 
tradition.* 

Perhaps  most  typical  is  a  symphony  of  Hadley 
where  one  feels,  with  other  modern  tradition,  the 
mantle  of  the  lamented  MacDowell,  of  whom  it  may 
be  said  that  he  was  first  to  find  in  higher  reaches 
of  the  musical  art  an  utterance  of  a  purely  national 
temper. 

HEXRY  HADLEY.     SYMPHONY  1O.  3,  B.  J//.VO/?.f 
With  virile  swing  the  majestic  melody  strides  in 
the   strings,   attended  by  trooping  chords   of  wood 
and  brass,  all  in  the  minor,  in  triple  rhythm.     In 

*  A  symphony  by  Wm.  W.  Gilchrist.    Vol.  II,  Appendix. 
T  Opus  00,  Henry  Hadley,  American,  born  1871. 
21  321 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Moderato  e  maestoso 
(Harp  and  wind) 


(Harp  and  wind) 

EzSETt-jorFrife  r  U  pJJ^ 
^T    -£'   ii 


(All  the  trebles) 


ConSve. 


(Strings  with 
lower  8ve.)  jf 


the  bass  is  a  frequent  retort  to  the  themal  phrase. 
For  a  moment  a  dulcet  line  steals  in,  quickly  broken 
by  the  returning  martial  stride  of  stentorian  horns, 
and  of  the  main  theme  in  full  chords.  Strange, 
though,  how  a  softer,  romantic  humor  is  soon  spread 
over  the  very  discussion  of  the  martial  theme,  so  that 
it  seems  the  rough,  vigorous  march  is  but  the  shell 
for  the  kernel  of  tender  romance, — the  pageant  that 
precedes  the  queenly  figure.  And  presently,  piu 
franquillo,  comes  the  fervent  lyric  song  that  may 
indeed  be  the  chief  theme  in  poetic  import,  if  not 
in  outer  rank.  After  a  moving  verse  in  the  strings, 

Piu  trinquillo 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

with  an  expressive  strain  in  some  voice  of  the  wood- 
wind or  a  ripple  of  the  harp,  it  is  sung  in  tense  chorus 
of  lower  wood  and  horns, — soon  joined  by  all  the 
voices  but  the  martial  brass,  ending  with  a  soft  echo 
of  the  strings. 

Now  in  full  majesty  the  stern  stride  of  first  theme 
is  resumed,  in  faster  insistence, — no  longer  the  mere 
tune,  but  a  spirited  extension  and  discussion,  with 
retorts  between  the  various  choirs.  Here  the  melo- 
dious march  is  suddenly  felt  in  the  bass  (beneath 
our  feet,  as  it  were)  of  lowest  brass  and  strings, 
while  the  noisy  bustle  continues  above  ;  then,  changing 
places,  the  theme  is  above,  the  active  motion  below. 

Long  continues  the  spirited  clatter  as  of  war-like 
march  till  again  returns  the  melting  mood  of  the 
companion  melody,  now  sung  by  the  expressive  horn, 
with  murmuring  strings.  And  there  are  enchanting 
flashes  of  tonal  light  as  the  song  passes  to  higher 
choirs.  The  lyric  theme  wings  its  rapturous  course 
to  a  blissful  height,  where  an  intrusion  of  the  main 
motive  but  halts  for  the  moment  the  returning  tender 
verse. 

When  the  first  vigorous  phrase  returns  in  full 
career,  there  is  somehow  a  greater  warmth,  and  the 
dulcet  after-strain  is  transfigured  in  a  glow  greater 
almost  than  of  the  lyric  song  that  now  follows  with 
no  less  response  of  beauty.  In  the  final  spirited  blend- 
ing of  both  melodies  the  trumpets  sound  a  quicker 
pace  of  the  main  motive. 

In  the  Andante  (tranquillo)  the  sweet  tinkle  of 
323 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


church-bells   with   soft   chanting  horns   quickly   de- 
fines the  scene.     Two  voices  of  the  strings,  to  the 

(Bella  and  harp  in  continuous  repetition) 
Andante  tranquillo 


(Strings,'  with  addeTchoir  of  lower^eeda) 
continuing  hum  of  the  bells,  are  singing  a  respon- 
sive song  that  rises  in  fervor  as  the  horns  and  later 
the  woodwind  join  the  strings.  Anon  will  sound 
the  simple  tune  of  the  bells  with  soft  harmonies,  like 
echoes  of  the  song, — or  even  the  chant  without  the 
chimes. 

In  more  eager  motion, — out  of  the  normal  measure 
of  bells  and  hymn,  breaks  a  new  song  in  minor  with 
a  touch  of  passion,  rising  to  a  burst  of  ardor.  But  it 
passes,  sinking  away  before  a  new  phase, — a  bucolic 

Pocopiu 

(Oboe) 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 


fantasy  of  trilling  shepherd's  reed  (in  changed,  even 
pace),  supported  by  strumming  strings.  The  sacred 
calm  and  later  passion  have  yielded  to  a  dolorous 
plaint,  like  the  dirge  of  the  Magyar  plains.  Sud- 
denly the  former  fervor  returns  with  strains  of  the 
second  melody  amidst  urging  motion  (in  the  triple 
pace)  and  startling  rushes  of  harp-strings.  At  the 
height,  trumpets  blare  forth  the  first  melody,  trans- 
formed from  its  earlier  softness,  while  the  second 
presses  on  in  higher  wood  and  strings ;  the  trombones 
relieve  the  trumpets,  with  a  still  larger  chorus  in  the 
romantic  song;  in  final  exaltation,  the  basses  of  brass 
and  strings  sound  the  first  melody,  while  the  second 
still  courses  in  treble  voices. 

Of  a  sudden,  after  a  lull,  falls  again  the  tinkle 
of  sacred  chimes,  with  a  verse  each  of  the  two  main 
melodies. 

The  Scherzo  begins  with  a  Saltarello  humor,  as  of 
airy  faun,  with  a  skipping  theme  ever  accompanied 
by  a  lower  running  phrase  and  a  prancing  trip  of 

Allegro  con  leggerezza,  ben  sostenuto 
(Cl.) 


(Bassoon) 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

strings,  with  a  refrain,  too,  of  chirruping  woodwind, 
Later  the  skipping  phrase  gains  a  melodic  cadence. 
But  the  main  mood  is  a  revel  of  gambols  and  pranks 
of  rhythm  and  harmony  on  the  first  phase. 

In  the  middle  is  a  sudden  shift  of  major  tone  and 
intimate  humor,  to  a  slower  pace.  With  still  a 
semblance  of  dance,  a  pensive  melody  sings  in  the 
cellos;  the  graceful  cadence  is  rehearsed  in  a  choir 

tneno  mottao 


of  woodwind,  and  the  song  is  taken  up  by  the  whole 
chorus.  As  a  pretty  counter-tune  grows  above,  the 
melody  sings  below,  with  a  blending  of  lyric  feeling 
and  the  charm  of  dance.  At  a  climactic  height  the 
hornp,  with  clumsy  grace,  blare  forth  the  main  lilting 
phrase. 

The  song  now  wings  along  with  quicker  tripping 
counter-tunes  that  slowly  lure  the  first  skipping  tune 
back  into  the  play  after  a  prelude  of  high  festivity. 
Xew  pranks  appear, — as  of  dancing  strings  against 
a  stride  of  loud,  muted  horns.  Then  the  second 
(pensive)  melody  returns,  now  above  the  running 
counter-tune.  At  last,  in  faster  gait,  to  the  coursing 
of  quicker  figures,  the  (second)  melody  rings  out  in 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 


choir  of  brass  in  twice  slower,  stately  pace.  But 
the  accompanying  bustle  is  merely  heightened  until 
all  four  horns  are  striking  together  the  lyric  song.  At 
the  end  is  a  final  revel  of  the  first  dancing  tune; 

The  Finale,  which  bears  the  unusual  mark  Allegro 
con  giubilio,  begins  with  a  big  festive  march  that  may 
seem  to  have  an  added  flavor  of  old  English  merry- 
making. But  as  in  the  other  cantos  of  the  poem  there 


Allegro  con  giubilio  -.__  tr.       >       >  >. 

A-5?-  -^M34=  =4&& 


£r- 


P: 


L.^        ¥^|A=^=^=3 — LT-pa 


p  r^  rny 


(Basses  in  8ye.) 


is  here,  too,  an  opposite  figure  and  feeling.  And  the 
more  joyous  the  gaiety,  the  more  sweetly  wistful  is 
the  recoil.  N"ay  there  is  in  this  very  expressive  strain, 
beautifully  woven  in  strings,  harp,  woodwind  and 
horns,  a  vein  of  regret  that  grows  rather  than  lessens, 
whenever  the  melody  appears  alone.  It  is  like  the 
memory,  in  the  midst  of  festival,  of  some  blissful 
moment  lost  forever. 

Indeed,  the  next  phase  seems  very  like  a  dis- 
ordered chase  of  stray  memories;  for  here  a  line  of 
martial  air  is  displaced  by  a  pensive  strain  which  in 
327 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


(Cello  and  harp  with  harmony  of  wood,  horns 

and  strings)        ^ 

Piu  tranquiUo 


turn  yields  to  the  quick,  active  tune  that  leads  to  a 
height  of  celehration. 

But  here  is  a  bewildering  figure  on  the  scene: 
Lustily  the  four  horns  (helped  by  the  strings)  blow 
in  slow  notes  against  the  continuing  motive  an  ex- 
pressive melody.  Slowly  it  breaks  upon  our  ears  as 
the  wistful  air  that  followed  the  chimes  of  Sunday 
bells.  It  has  a  stern,  almost  sombre  guise,  until  it 
suddenly  glows  in  transfigured  light,  as  of  a  choir 
of  celestial  brass. 

Slowly  we  are  borne  to  the  less  exalted  pitch  of  the 
first  festive  march,  and  here  follows,  as  at  first,  the 
expressive  melody  where  each  hearer  may  find  his 
328 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

own  shade  of  sadness.  It  does  seem  to  reach  a  true 
passion  of  regret,  with  poignant  sweet  sighs. 

At  length  the  sadness  is  overcome  and  there  is  a 
new  animation  as  separate  voices  enter  in  fugal  man- 
ner in  the  line  of  the  march.  Now  the  festive  tune 
holds  sway  in  lower  pace  in  the  basses ;  but  then  rings 
on  high  in  answer — the  wistful  melody  again  and 
again,  in  doubled  and  twice  redoubled  pace. 

When  we  liear  the  penseroso  melody  once  more  at 
the  end,  we  may  feel  with  the  poet  a  state  of  resigned 
cheer. 

A  remarkable  work  that  shows  the  influence  of 
modern  French  harmony  rather  than  its  actual  traits, 
is  a  SYMPHONY  BY  GUSTAV  STRUBE.*  It  is  difficult 
to  resist  the  sense  of  a  strain  for  bizarre  harmony,  of 
a  touch  of  preciosity.  The  real  business  of  these  har- 
monies is  for  incidental  pranks,  with  an  after-touch 
that  confesses  the  jest,  or  softens  it  to  a  lyric  utter- 
ance. It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  moving  moments 
in  this  work  come  precisely  in  the  release  of  the 
strain  of  dissonance,  as  in  the  returning  melody  of 
the  Adagio.  Only  we  may  feel  we  have  been  waiting 
too  long.  The  desert  was  perhaps  too  long  for  the 
oasis.  Est  modus  in  rebus:  the  poet  seems  niggardly 
with  his  melody;  ha  may  weary  us  with  too  long 
waiting,  with  too  little  staying  comfort.  He  does 
not  escape  the  modern  way  of  symbolic,  infinitesimal 

*  Of   Boston, — born   in   Germany   in   1807. 
329 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

melody,  so  small  that  it  must,  of  course,  reappear. 
It  is  a  little  like  the  wonderful  arguments  from 
ciphers  hidden  in  poetry. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  smallness  of  phrase 
does  suggest  a  smallness  of  idea.  The  plan  of  magic 
motive  will  not  hold  ad  infinitesimum.  As  the  turn 
of  the  triplet,  in  the  first  movement,  twists  into  a 
semblance  of  the  Allegro  theme,  we  feel  like  wonder- 
ing with  the  old  Philistine: 

..."  How  all  this  difference  can  be 
Twixt  tweedle-dum  and  tweedle-dee!  " 

But  there  is  the  redeeming  vein  of  lyric  melody 
with  a  bold  fantasy  of  mischievous  humor  and  a 
true  climax  of  a  clear  poetic  design.  One  reason 
seems  sometimes  alone  to  justify  this  new  license, 
this  new  French  revolution:  the  deliverance  from  a 
stupid  slavery  of  rules, — if  we  would  only  get  the 
spirit  of  them  without  the  inadequate  letter.  Better, 
of  course,  the  rules  than  a  fatal  chaos.  But  there  is 
here  in  the  bold  flight  of  these  harmonies,  soaring  as 
though  on  some  hidden  straight  path,  a  truly  Pro- 
methean utterance. 

It  is  significant,  in  the  problem  of  future  music, 
that  of  the  symphonies  based  upon  recent  French 
ideas,  the  most  subtly  conceived  and  designed  should 
have  been  written  in  America. 

I- — In  pale  tint  of  harmony  sways  the  impersonal 
phrase  that  begins  with  a  descending  tone.  We  may 
330 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

Andante  (Melody  in  flute  and  violas) 
.(Violins) 


(Cellos  with  basses  I5*-1 

in  lower  8ve.) 

remember  *  how  first  with  the  symphony  came  a  cleat 
sense  of  tonal  residence.  It  was  like  the  age  in 
painting  when  figures  no  longer  hung  in  the  gray  air, 
when  they  were  given  a  resting-place,  with  trees  and 
a  temple. 

Here  we  find  just  the  opposite  flight  from  clear 
tonality,  as  if  painting  took  to  a  Japanese  manner, 
sans  aught  of  locality.  Where  an  easy  half-step  leads 
gently  somewhere,  a  whole  tone  sings  instead.  Noth- 
ing obvious  may  stand. 

It  marks,  in  its  reaction,  the  excessive  stress  of 
tonality  and  of  simple  colors  of  harmony.  The  basic 
sense  of  residence  is  not  abandoned;  there  is  merely 
a  bolder  search  for  new  tints,  a  farther  straying 
from  the  landmarks. 

Soon  our  timid  tune  is  joined  by  a  more  expressive 
line  that  rises  in  ardent  reaches  to  a  sudden  tumult, 
with  a  fiery  strain  of  trumpets  where  we  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  triplet  figure.  After  a  dulcet  lullaby 


See  Vol  I,  Chapter  I. 


331 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

(Flute  with  tremolo  of  high  strings) 


f>  cspre«s. 

(New  melody  in  oh.  and  violas) 


of  the  first  air,  the  second  flows  in  faster  pace 
(Allegro  commodo)  as  the  real  text,  ever  with  new 
blossoming  variants  that  sing  together  in  a  madrigal 
of  tuneful  voices,  where  the  descending  note  still 
has  a  part  in  a  smooth,  gliding  pace  of  violins. 

In  gayer  mood  comes  a  verse  of  the  inverted 
(Allegro)  tune,  with  other  melodic  guises  hovering 
about.  When  the  theme  descends  to  the  bass,  the 
original  Andante  phrase  sings  in  the  trumpet,  and 
there  is  a  chain  of  entering  voices,  in  growing  agi- 
tation, in  the  main  legend  with  the  quicker  sprites 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

dancing  about.  At  the  height,  after  the  stirring 
pong  of  trumpets,  we  feel  a  passionate  strife  of  resolve 
and  regret;  and  immediately  after,  the  descending 
tone  is  echoed  everywhere. 

A  balancing  (second)  theme  now  appears,  in  tran- 

(Horn) 
j      Allegro    dolce 


harmony  in  violins, 
bassoons  and  flute) 

quil  flow,  but  pressing  on,  at  the  end,  in  steady  ascent 
as  to  Parnassian  summit.  Later  comes  a  new  re- 
joinder in  livelier  mood,  till  it  is  lost  in  a  big, 
moving  verse  of  the  Andante  song.  But  pert  retorts 
from  the  latest  new  tune  again  fill  the  air,  then  yield 
in  attendance  upon  the  returning  Allegro  theme. 
Of  subtle  art  is  the  woof  of  derived  phrases.  A  con- 
panion  melody,  that  seems  fraught  of  the  text  of  the 
second  subject,  sings  with  rising  passion,  while  the 
lower  brass  blow  lustily  in  eccentric  rhythm  of  the 
Allegro  phrase  and  at  the  height  share  in  the  dual 
triumph. 

We  feel  a  kinship  of  mood  rather  than  of  theme, 
333 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

a  coherence  that  we  fear  to  relate  to  definite  figures, 
though  the  descending  symbol  is  clear  against  the 
ascending.  An  idyllic  dialogue,  with  the  continuing 
guise  of  the  Allegro  phrase  turns  to  a  gayer  revel 
in  the  original  pace,  with  a  brilliant  blare  of  trumpets. 

The  free  use  of  themes  is  shown  in  the  opposite 
moods  of  the  triplet  phrase,  of  sadness,  as  in  Andante, 
or  buoyant,  in  Allegro.  Here  are  both  in  close  tran- 
sition as  the  various  verses  return  from  the  begin- 
ning, entwined  about  the  first  strain  of  the  Andante, 
gliding  through  the  descending  tone  into  the  second 
soothing  song  with  the  Parnassian  ascent. 

A  full  verse  of  the  first  Andante  "melody  sings 
at  the  heart  of  the  plot,  followed  by  the  strange 
demonic  play  that  keeps  the  mood  within  bounds. 
Indeed,  it  returns  once  more  as  at  first,  then  springs 
into  liveliest  trip  and  rises  to  an  Olympian  height, 
with  a  final  revel  of  the  triplet  figure. 

II. — With  a  foreshadowing  drop  of  tone  begins 
the  prelude,  not  unlike  the  first  notes  of  the  sym- 

Adagio,  nui  non  troppo  

mf  (fsprf**irx>  Clar. ) 

tt  J  i  mHn^r^ 


p-riry  =*fTs? 


(Strings) 


(Clar'te  and 
bassoon?) 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 


phony,  answered  with  a  brief  phrase.     On  the  de- 
scending motive  the  main  melody  is  woven. 

Tenderly  they  play  together,  the  melody  with  the 
main  burden,  the  lighter  prelude  phrase  in  graceful 
accompaniment.  But  now  the  latter  sings  in  turn  a 
serious  verse,  rises  to  a  stormy  height,  the  horns 
proclaiming  the  passionate  plea  amid  a  tumultuous 
accord  of  the  other  figures,  and  sinks  in  subdued 
temper.  In  a  broader  pace  begins  a  new  line,  though 
on  the  thread  of  the  descending  motive,  and  with  the 
entering  phrase  of  the  prelude  winds  to  a  climax 
of  passion.  The  true  episode,  of  refuge  and  solace 
from  the  stress  of  tempest,  is  in  a  song  of  the  trum- 
pet through  a  shimmering  gauze  of  strings  with 
glinting  harp,  to  a  soft  murmuring  in  the  reeds. 
(Violins)  . 


(Cellos  with  sustained  lower  B  of  basses) 
Main  melody  in  trumpets 

In  a  new  shade  of  tone  it  is  echoed  by  the  horn, 
then  in  a  fervent  close  it  is  blended  with  a  guise 
of  the  prelude  phrase,  that  now  heralds  the  main 
335 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

melody,  in  a  duet  of  clarinet  and  violins.  At  last 
in  the  home  tone  the  horn  sings  amid  the  sweet 
tracery  the  parting  verse,  and  all  about  sounds  the 
trist  symbol  of  the  first  (descending)  motive. 

///. — The  Scherzo  is  in  one  view  a  mad  revel  of 
demon  pranks  in  a  new  field  of  harmonies.  Inconse- 
quential though  they  may  seem,  there  is  a  real  coher- 
ence, and,  too,  a  subtle  connection  with  the  whole 
design. 

To  be  sure,  with  the  vagueness  of  tune  that  be- 
longs to  a  school  of  harmonic  exploits  a  certain 
mutual  relation  of  themes  is  a  kind  of  incident. 
The  less  defined  the  phrases,  the  easier  it  is  to  make 
them  similar. 

Undoubted  likeness  there  is  between  the  main 
elfin  figure  and  the  first  phrase  of  the  symphony. 

(Oboes,  with  lower  8ve.  and  higher  8ve.  of  piccolo) 
Allfyro  riracf 


The  triplet  is  itself  a  kind  of  password  throughout. 
With  this  multiple  similarity  is  a  lack  of  the  inner 
bond  of  outer  contrast. 

336 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 


The  mood  of  demon  humor  finds  a  native  medium 
in  the  tricks  of  new  Gallic  harmony.  Early  in 
the  prelude  we  hear  the  descending  tone,  a  streak  of 
sadness  in  the  mirth.  Answering  the  first  burst  is 
a  strange  stroke  of  humor  in  the  horn,  and  as  if  in 

(Tremolo  1st  violins) 


_     ___   _. 


mf  (1st  horn) 


(Clarinets  doubled        / 
above  in  strings) 


serious  balance,  a  smooth  gliding  phrase  in  the 
wood.  Xow  the  first  figure  grows  more  articulate, 
romping  and  galloping  into  an  ecstasy  of  fun.  A 
certain  spirit  of  Till  Eulenspiegel  hovers  about. 

Out  of  the  maze  blows  a  new  line  in  muted  trum- 
pets, that  begins  with  the  inverted  triplet  figure,  and 
in  spite  of  the  surrounding  bedlam  rises  almost  into 
a  tune.  At  the  height  the  strange  jest  of  the  (horns 
reigns  supreme. 

From  the  mad  gambols  of  the  first  figure  comes  a 
relief  in  sparkling  calls  of  the  brass  and  stirring 
retorts  in  pure  ringing  harmonies.  In  the  next 
episode  is  a  fall  into  a  lyric  mood  as  the  latest  figure 
glides  into  even  pace,  singing  amid  gentlest  pranks. 
22  337 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


Most  tuneful  of  all  sounds  is  the  answer  in  dulcet 

trumpet  while,  above,  the  first  theme  intrudes  softly. 

The  heart  of  the  idyll  comes  in  a  song  of  the  clari- 


(Cl.  tspressivo) 
mf      - 


(Pizz.  strings 
with  higher  8ve 
of  upper  voice) 


(Wood  and  horn  and  strings) 


(Clar.  and  bassoons) 


net  against  strange,  murmuring  strings,  ever  with  a 
soft  answer  of  the  lower  reed. 

New  invading  sprites  do  not  hem  the  flight  of 
the  melody.  But  at  the  height  a  redoubled  pace 
turns  the  mood  back  to  revelling  mirth  with  broken 
bits  of  the  horn  tune.  Indeed  the  crisis  comes  with 
a  new  rage  of  this  symbol  of  mad  abandon,  in  de- 
monic strife  with  the  fervent  song  that  finally 
prevails. 

The  first  theme  returns  with  a  new  companion 
in  the  highest  wood.  A  fresh  strain  of  serious  melody 
is  now  woven  about  the  former  dulcet  melody  of 
trumpet  in  a  stretch  of  delicate  poesy,  of  mingled 
mirth  and  tenderness. — The  harmonies  have  some- 
thing of  the  infinitesimal  sounds  that  only  insects 
hear.  With  all  virtuous  recoil,  here  we  must  confess 
IB  a  masterpiece  of  cacophonic  art,  a  new  world  of 
338 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

tones  hitherto  unconceived,  tinkling  and  murmuring 
with  the  eerie  charm  of  the  forest. — In  the  return 
of  the  first  prelude  is  a  touch  of  the  descending  tone. 
Prom  the  final  revelling  tempest  comes  a  sudden 
awakening.  In  strange  moving  harmony  sings  slowly 
the  descending  symbol,  as  if  confessing  the  unsuccess- 
ful flight  from  regret.  Timidly  the  vanquished 
sprites  scurry  away. 

IV- — The  first  notes  of  the  Finale  blend  and  bring 
back  the  main  motives.  First  is  the  descending  tone, 
but  firm  and  resolute,  with  the  following  triplet  in 

(Higher  figure  in 
.  strings  &  wood) 


1,  horns  and  lower  strings)  (Strings  and  wood) 

inversion  of  the  Scherzo  theme. 

It  is  all  in  triumphant  spirit.  From  the  start  the 
mood  reigns,  the  art  for  once  is  quite  subordinate. 
Eesonant  and  compelling  is  the  motive  of  horns  and 
trumpets,  new  in  temper,  though  harking  back  to 
the  earlier  text;  in  its  cogent  ending.  Splendid  is 


strings  dou- 
bled  below) 


(Horns  and  trumpets) 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

the  soaring  flight  through  flashes  of  new  chords. 
There  is,  we  must  yield,  something  Promethean,  of 
new  and  true  beauty,  in  the  bold  path  of  harmonies 
that  the  French  are  teaching  us  after  n  long  age  of 
slavish  rules. 

The  harking  back  is  here  better  than  in  most 
modern  symphonies  with  their  pedantic  subtleties: 
in  the  resurgence  of  joyous  mood,  symbolized  by  th* 
inversion  of  phrase,  as  when  the  prankish  elfin  theim- 
rises  in  serious  aspiration. 

Out  of  these  inspiriting  reaches  sings  a  new  melody 
in  canon  of  strings  (though  it  may  relate  to  some 
shadowy  memory),  while  in  the  bass  rolls  the  former 
ending  phrase;  then  they  romp  in  jovial  turn  of 
rhythm. 

(Oboes,  doubled  below  (String*,  doubled  below) 

in  bassoons) 


(Pizz.  cello  doubled  below) 

A  vague  and  insignificant  similarity  of  themes  is 
R  fault  of  the  work  and  of  the  style,  ever  in  high 
di-tlain  of  vernacular  harmony,  refreshing  to  be  sure, 
in  it.s  saucy  audacity,  and  anon  enchanting  with  a 
ring  of  new,  fiery  chord.  As  the  sonorous  theme 
340 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

sings  in  muted  brass,  picking  strings  mockingly 
play  quicker  fragments,  infecting  the  rest  with  frivo- 
lous retorts,  and  then  a  heart-felt  song  pours  forth, 
where  the  accompanying  cries  have  softened  their 
mirth.  Back  they  skip  to  a  joyous  trip  with  at  last 
pure  ringing  harmonies. 

At  the  fervent  pitch  a  blast  of  trumpets  rises  in 
challenging  phrase,  in  incisive  clash  of  chord,  with 
the  early  sense  of  Parnassian  ascent.  At  the  end  of 
this  brave  fanfare  we  hear  a  soft  plea  of  the  de- 
scending tone  that  prompts  a  song  of  true  lyric 
melody,  with  the  continuing  gentlest  touch  of  regret, 
all  to  a  sweetly  bewildering  turn  of  pace.  So  tense 

(Continuing  organ  pt.  of  violins)        (Fl.  &  clar.  dolct) 
A  uiinaii  do 

-4-.S. 


*>  *~f&  &>•     J  P»\  f3 **    & P~1F^^*  9  f:^~m~^\ 

*^™^^t|^ 

ria**in«»il  ^-1          I  N~-I 


PP  (Strings)1 


and  subtle  an  expression  would  utterly  convert  us 
to  the  whole  harmonic  plan,  were  it  not  that  just 
here,  in  these  moving  moments,  we  feel  a  return 
to  clearer  tonality.  But  it  is  a  joy  to  testify  to  so 
devoted  a  work  of  art. 

With  the  last  notes  of  melody  a  new  frisking  tune 
341 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

plays  in  sauciest  clashes  of  chord,  with  an  enchanting 
stretch  of  ringing  brass.  A  long  merriment  ensues 
in  the  jovial  trip,  where  the  former  theme  of  horns 
lias  a  rising  cadence;  or  the  tripping  tune  sings  in 
united  chorus  and  again  through  its  variants.  After 
a  noisy  height  the  dulcet  melody  (from  the  descend- 
ing tone)  sings  in  linked  sweetness.  In  the  later 
tumult  we  rub  our  eyes  to  see  a  jovial  theme  of  the 
bass  take  on  the  lines  of  the  wistful  melody.  Finally, 
in  majestic  tread  amid  general  joyous  clatter  the 
brass  blow  the  gentle  song  in  mellowed  tones  of 
richest  harmony. 

CHADWICK.*  SUITE  8YMPHONIQUE  (IN  E  FLAT). 
With  a  Tush  of  harp  and  higher  strings  the  Suite 
begins  on  ardent  wing  in  exultant  song  of  trumpets 
(with  horns,  bassoons  and  cellos)  to  quick  palpitat- 
ing violins  that  in  its  higher  flight  is  given  over 
to  upper  reeds  and  violas.  It  is  answered  by 
fully  drooping  melody  of  strings  and  harps 
by  the  oboes,  that  lightly  descends  from  the  heights 
with  a  cadence  long  delayed,  like  the  circling  flight 
of  a  great  bird  before  he  alights.  Straightway  bcirins 
a  more  pensive  turn  of  phrase  (of  clarinet  and  lower 
strings)  in  distant  tonal  scene  where  now  the  former 
(descending)  answer  sings  timidly  in  alternating 
groups.  The  pensive  melody  returns  for  a  greater 
reach,  blending  with  the  original  theme  (in  all  the 
basses)  in  a  glowing  duet  of  two  moods  as  well  as 

*  George  W,  Chadwick,  American,  born  in  1854. 
342 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

melodies,  rising  to  sudden  brilliant  height,  pressing 
on  to  a  full  return  of  the  first  exultant  melody  with 
long,  lingering,  circling  descent. 

The  listener  on  first  hearing  may  be  warned  to 
have  a  sharp  ear  for  all  kinds  of  disguises  of  the 
stirring  theme  and  in  a  less  degree,  of  the  second 
subject.  What  seems  a  new  air  in  a  tranquil  spot; 
with  strum  of  harp, — and  new  it  is  as  expression, — 
is  our  main  melody  in  a  kind  of  inversion.  And  so 
a  new  tissue  of  song  continues,  all  of  the  original 
fibre,  calming  more  and  more  from  the  first  fierce 
glow.  A  tuneful  march-like  strain  now  plays  gently 
in  the  horns  while  the  (inverted)  expressive  air  still 
sounds  above. 


(Oboe  with  8ve.  flute) 


rr 

(Horns)     Calmato  ed  espressiro  nxsai 


-I—  -  * 


i 


When  all  has  quieted  to  dim  echoing  answers  be- 
tween horn  and  reed,  a  final  strain  bursts  forth  (like 
the  nightingale's  voice  in  the  surrounding  stillness) 
in  full  stress  of  its  plaint.  And  so.  in  most  natural 
course,  grows  and  flows  the  mam  balancing  melody 
343 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THKIK  MKAMNG 


that  now  pours  out   its  burden   in   slower,  broader 
pace,  in  joint  choirs  of  wood  and  string. 

Meno  mo**n  e  largamenfe 

(Woodwind  above,  strings  below) 


r 


8m. 


8va. 


It  is  the  kind  of  lyric  spot  where  the  full  stream  of 
warm  feeling  seems  set  free  after  the  storm  of  the 
first  onset.  In  answer  is  ,a  timid,  almost  halting 
strain  in  four  parts  of  the  wood,  echoed  in  strings. 
A  new  agitation  now  stirs  the  joint  choirs  (with 
touches  of  brass),  and  anon  comes  a  poignant  line 
344 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

of  the  inverted  (main)  theme.  It  drives  in  rising 
stress  under  the  spurring  summons  of  trumpets  and 
horns  to  a  celebration  of  the'  transfigured  second 
melody,  with  triumphant  cadence.  Nor  does  the 
big  impulse  halt  here.  The  trumpets  sound  on  midst 
a  spirited  duet  of  inverted  and  original  motives  until 
the  highest  point  is  reached,  where,  to  quicker  calls  of 
the  brass,  in  broadest  pace  the  main  subject  strikes 
its  inverted  tune  in  the  trebles,  while  the  bass  rolls 
its  majestic  length  in  a  companion  melody;  trom- 
bones, too,  are  blaring  forth  the  call  of  the  second 
theme. 

Brief  interludes  of  lesser  agitation  bring  a  second 
chorus  on  the  reunited  melodies  in  a  new  tonal 
quarter. 

In  mystic  echoing  groups  on  the  former  de- 
scending answer  of  main  theme  the  mood  deepens  in 
darkening  scene.  Here  moves  in  slow  strides  of 
lowest  brass  a  shadowy  line  of  the  second  melody 
answered  by  a  poignant  phrase  of  the  first.  Striking 
again  and  again  in  higher  perches  the  dual  song 
reaches  a  climax  of  feeling  in  overpowering  burst  of 
fullest  brass.  In  masterful  stride,  still  with  a  burden 
of  sadness,  it  has  a  solacing  tinge  as  it  ends  in  a 
chord  with  pulsing  harp,  that  twice  repeated  leads 
back  to  the  stirring  first  song  of  main  theme. 

Thence  the  whole  course  is  clear  in  the  rehearsal 

of  former  melodies.     Only  the  pensive  air  has  lost 

its  melancholy.     Here  is  again  the  lyric  of  warm- 

hued  horns  with  plaintive  higher  phrase,  and  the  full 

345 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THKIR  MEANING 

romance  of  second  melody  with  its  timid  answer, 
where  the  nervous  trip  rouses  slowly  the  final  exulta- 
tion. Yet  there  is  one  more  descent  into  the  depths 
where  the  main  melody  browses  in  dim  searching. 
Slowly  it  wings  its  flight  upwards  until  it  is  greeted 
by  a  bright  burst  of  the  second  melody  in  a  chorus 
of  united  brass.  And  this  is  but  a  prelude  to  the 
last  joint  song,  with  the  inverted  theme  above.  A 
fanfare  of  trumpets  on  the  second  motive  ends  the 
movement. 

The  Ronianze  is  pure  song  in  three  verses  where 
we  cannot  avoid  a  touch  of  Scottish,  with  the  little 
acclaiming  phrases,  The  theme  is  given  to  the  saxo- 
phone (or  cello)  with  obligate  of  clarinet  and 
violas;  the  bass  is  in  bassoons  and  pizzicato  of  lower 
strings.  One  feels  a  special  gratitude  to  the  com- 
poser who  will  write  in  theao  days. a  clear,  simple, 
original  and  beautiful  melody. 

The  first  interlude  is  a  fantasy,  almost  a  variant 
on  the  theme  in  a  minor  melody  of  the  wood,  with  a 
twittering  phrase  of  violins.  Later  the  strings  take 
up  the  theme  in  pure  cantilena  in  a  turn  to  the 
major, — all  in  expressive  song  that  rises  to  a  fervent 
height.  Though  it  grows  out  of  the  main  theme, 
yet  the  change  is  clear  in  a  return  to  the  subject, 
now  in  true  variation,  where  the  saxophone  has  the 
longer  notes  and  the  clarinet  and  oboe  sing  in 
concert. 

There  follows  a  pure  interlude,  vague  in  motive, 
full  of  dainty  touches.  The  oboe  has  a  kind  of  arioso 
346 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

phrase  with  trilling  of  flutes  and  clarinets,  answered 
in  trumpets  and  harp. 

Later  the  first  violins  (on  the  G  string)  sing  the 
main  air  with  the  saxophone. 

A  double  character  has  the  third  movement  as  the 
title  shows,  though  in  a  broadest  sense  it  could  all 
be  taken  as  a  Humoreske. 

With  a  jaunt}-  lilt  of  skipping  strings  the  lower 
reeds  strike  the  capricious  tune,  where  the  full  chorus 
soon  falls  in.  The  answering  melody,  with  more  of 
sentiment,  though  always  in  graceful  swing  with 
tricksy  attendant  figures,  has  a  longer  song.  Not 
least  charm  has  the  concluding  tune  that  leads  back 
to  the  whole  melodious  series.  Throughout  are 
certain  chirping  notes  that  form  the  external  con- 
nection with  the  Humoreske  that  begins  with  strid- 
ent theme  (molto  robusto)  of  low  strings,  the  whole 
chorus,  xylophon  and  all,  clattering  about,  the  high 
wood  echoing  like  a  band  of  giant  crickets, — all  in 
whimsical,  varying  pace.  The  humor  grows  more 
graceful  when  the  first  melody  of  the  Intermezzo  is 
lightly  touched.  The  strange  figure  returns  (in 
roughest  strings  and  clarinet)  somewhat  in  ancient 
manner  of  imitation.  Later  the  chirruping  answer 
recurs.  Diminishing  trills  are  echoed  between  the 
groups. 

Slowly  the  scene  grows  stranger.  Suddenly  in  eerie 

harmonies  of  .newest  French  or  oldest  Tartar,  here 

are  the  tricks  and  traits  where  meet  the  extremes 

of  latest  Romantic  and  primeval  barbarian.    In  this 

347 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

motley  cloak  sounds  the  typical  Yankee  tune,  first 
piping  in  piccolo,  then  grunting  in  tuba.  Here  is 
LTncle  Sam  disporting  himself  merrily  in  foreign 
garb  and  scene,  quite  as  if  at  home.  If  we  wished, 
we  might  see  a  political  satire  as  well  as  musical. 

After  a  climax  of  the  clownish  mood  we  return  to 
the  Intermezzo  melodies. 

The  Finale  begins  in  the  buoyant  spirit  of  the  be- 
ginning and  seems  again  to  have  a  touch  of  Scotch  in 
the  jaunty  answer.  The  whole  subject  is  a  group  of 
phrases  rather  than  a  single  melody. 

Preluding  runs  lead  to  the  simple  descending  line 
of  treble  with  opposite  of  basses,  answered  by  the 
jovial  phrase.  In  the  farther  course  the  first  theme 
prevails,  answered  with  an  ascending  brief  motive 
of  long  notes  in  irregular  ascent.  Here  follow*  a 
freer  flow  of  the  jolly  lilting  tune,  blending  with  the 
sterner  descending  lines. 

Balancing  this  group  is  an  expressive  melody  of 
different  sentiment.  In  its  answer  we  have  again 
the  weird  touch  of  neo-barbarism  in  a  strain  of  the 
reed,  with  dancing  overtones  of  violins  and  harp,  and 
strumming  chords  on  lower  strings.  Or  is  there  a 
hint  of  ancient  Highland  in  the  drone  of  alternating 
horns  and  bassoons? 

Its  brief  verse  is  answered  by  a  fervent  conclu-iv*1 
line  where  soon  the  old  lilting  refrain  appears  with 
new  tricks  and  a  big  celebration  of  its  own  and  tli«-n 
of  the  whole  madrigal  of  martial  melody.  It  sim- 
mers down  with  whims  and  turns  of  the  skipping 
348 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

phrase   into   the   quiet  (tranquillo)    episode   in  the 
midst  of  the  other  stress. 


(With  lower  8ve.)          ' — 
Tranquillo  ^.  J         J  | 


(With  pizz.  quarter  notes  in  basses  ana  strings) 


The  heart  of  the  song  is  in  the  horns,  with  an 
upper  air  in  the  wood,  while  low  strings  guard  a 
gentle  rhythm.  A  brief  strain  in  the  wind  in  ardent 
temper  is  followed  by  another  in  the  strings,  and 
still  a  third  in  joint  strings  and  wood.  (Again  we 
must  rejoice  in  the  achievement  of  true,  simple, 
sincere  melody.)  The  final  glowing  height  is  reached 
in  all  the  choirs  together,— final  that  is  before  the 
349 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

brass  is  added  with  a  broader  pace,  that  leads  to  the 
moving  climax.  As  the  horns  had  preluding  chords 
to  the  whole  song,  so  a  single  horn  sings  a  kind  of 
epilogue  amid  harmony  of  strings  and  other  horns. 
Slowly  a  more  vigorous  pulse  is  stirred,  in  (an  inter- 
lude of  retorting  trumpets. 

Suddenly  in  the  full  energy  of  the  beginning  the 
whole  main  subject  sounds  again,  with  the  jolly  lilt 
dancing  through  all  its  measures,  which  are  none 
too  many.  The  foil  of  gentle  melody  returns  with 
its  answer  of  eerie  tune  and  harmonies.  It  seems 
as  if  the  poet,  after  his  rude  jest,  wanted,  half  in 
amends,  half  on  pure  impulse,  to  utter  a  strain  of 
true  fancy  in  the  strange  new  idiom. 

A  new,  grateful  sound  has  again  the  big  conclusive 
phrase  that  merges  into  more  pranks  of  the  jaunty 
tune  in  the  biggest  revel  of  all,  so  that  we  suspect 
the  jolly  jester  is  the  real  hero  and  the  majestic 
figures  are,  after  all,  mere  background.  And  yet 
here  follows  the  most  tenderly  moving  verse,  all 
unexpected,  of  the  quiet  episode. 

The  end  is  a  pure  romp,  molto  vivace,  mainly 
on  the  skipping  phrase.  To  be  sure  the  stately 
figures  after  a  festive  height  march  in  big,  length- 
ened pace;  brit  so  does  the  jolly  tune,  as  though  in 
mockery.  He  breaks  into  his  old  rattling  pare  (in 
the  Glockenspiel)  when  all  the  figures  appear  to- 
gether,— the  big  ones  changing  places  just  before  the 
end,  where  the  main  theme  has  the  last  say,  now  in 
the  bass,  amidst  the  final  festivities. 
350 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

LOEFFLER.'     LA  VILLAXELLE  DU  DIABLE 
(The  Devil's  Round) 

(After  a  poem  by  M.  Rollinat.   Symphonic  poem  for  Orchestra  and  Organ) 

Few  pieces  of  program  music  are  so  closely  as- 
sociated with  the  subject  as  this  tone  picture  of  the 
DeviFs  Eound.  The  translation  of  M.  Rollinat's 
"  Villanelle/'  printed  in  the  score  is  as  follows :  f 

Hell's  a-burning,  burning,  burning.  Chuckling  in  clear 
staccato,  the  Devil  prowling,  runs  about. 

He  watches,  advances,  retreats  like  zig-zag  lightning; 
Hell's  a-burning,  burning,  burning. 

In  dive  and  cell,  underground  and  in  the  air,  the  Devil, 
prowling,  runs  about. 

Now  he  is  flower,  dragon-fly,  woman,  black-cat,  green 
snake;  Hell's  a-burning,  burning,  burning. 

*  Charles  Martin  Loeffler,  born  in  Alsace  in  1801. 

f  A  few  translated  verses  may  give  an  idea  of  the  original 
rhythm : 

Hell's   a-burning,   burning,   burning. 

Cackling  in  his  impish  play, 

Here  and  there  the  Devil's  turning, 

Forward  here  and  back  again, 
Zig-zag  as  the  lightning's  ray, 
While  the  fires  burn  amain. 

In  the  church  and  in  the  cell 
In  the  caves,  in  open  day, 
Ever  prowls  the  fiend  of  hell. 

But  in  the  original  the  first  and  last  lines  of  the  first 
verse  are  used  as  refrains  in  the  succeeding  verses,  recur- 
ring alternately  as  the  last  line.     In  the  final  verse  they 
are  united.— The  prose  translation  is  by  Philip  Hale. 
351 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

And  now,  with  pointed  moustache,  scented  with  vetiver, 
the  Devil,  prowling,  runs  about. 

Wherever  mankind  swarms,  without  rest,  summer  and 
winter,  Hell's  a-burning,  burning,  burning. 

From  alcove  to  hall,  and  on  the  railways,  the  Devil, 
prowling,  runs  about. 

He  is  Mr.  Seen-at-Night,  who  saunters  with  staring 
eyes.  Hell's  a-burning,  burning,  burning. 

There  floating  as  a  bubble,  here  squirming  as  a  worm, 
the  Devil,  prowling,  runs  about. 

He's  grand  seigneur,  tough,  student,  teacher.  Hell's 
a-burning,  burning,  burning. 

He  inoculates  each  soul  with  his  bitter  whispering:  the 
Devil,  prowling,  runs  about. 

He  promises,  bargains,  stipulates  in  gentle  or  proud 
tones.  Hell's  a-hurning,  burning,  burning. 

Mocking  pitilessly  the  unfortunate  whom  lie  destroys, 
the  Devil,  prowling,  runs  about. 

He  makes  goodness  ridiculous  and  the  old  man  in  til.-. 
Hell's  a-burning,  burning,  burning. 

At  the  home  of  the  priest  or  sceptic,  whose  soul  or  lnxly 
he  wishes,  the  Devil,  prowling,  runs  about. 

Beware  of  him  to  whom  he  toadies,  and  whom  he  calls 
"  my  dear  sir."  Hell's  a-burning,  burning,  burning. 

Friend  of  the  tarantula,  darkness,  the  odd  number,  the 
Devil,  prowling,  runs  about. 

— My  clock  strikes  midnight.  If  I  should  go  to  see 
Lucifer? — Hell's  a-burning,  burning,  burning;  the  Devil, 
prowling,  runs  about. 

In  the  maze  of  this  modern  setting  of  demon  nntir* 
(.not  unlike,  in  conceit,  the  capers  of  Till  Eulen- 
spiegel),  with  an  eloquent  use  of  new  French  stroke- 
of  harmony,  one  must  be  eager  to  seize  upon  definite 
figures.  In  the  beginning  is  a  brief  wandering  or 
352 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

flickering  motive  in  furious  pace  of  harp  and  strings, 
ending  ever  in  a  shriek  of  the  high  wood.    Answering 


Presto  (ilpiu 


(Woodwind) 
8va. . . . 


(Strings  with  rhythmic 
chords  in  the  tonic) 


(With  opposite 
descending  chords) 


is  a  descending  phrase  mainly  in  the  brass,  that  ends 
in  a  rapid  jingle. 


(Brass  with  quicker  figi 
in  strings  and  wood' 


ures 


There  are  various  lesser  motives,  such  as  a  minor 
scale  of  ascending  thirds,  and  a  group  of  cross- 
ing figures  that  seem  a  guise  of  the  first  motive. 
To  be  sure  the  picture  lies  less  in  the  separate 
figures  than  in  the  mingled  color  and  bustle.  Special 
in  its  humor  is  a  soft  gliding  or  creeping  phrase  of 
three  voices  against  a  constant  trip  of  cellos. 

After  a  climax  of  the  first  motive  a  frolicking 
theme  begins  (in  English  horn  and  violas).  If 
we  were  forced  to  guess,  we  could  see  here  the  dandy 
23  353 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

devil,  with  pointed  mustachios,  frisking  about.  It  is 
probably  another  guise  of  the  second  motive  which 
presently  appears  in  the  bass.  A  little  later,  dolce 
amabile  in  a  madrigal  of  wood  and  strings,  we  may 
see  the  gentlemanly  devil,  the  gallant.  With  a  crash 
of  chord  an<I  a  role  of  cymbals  re-enters  the  first 
motive,  to  flickering  harmonies  of  violins,  harp  and 
ilutes,  taken  up  by  succeeding  voices,  all  in  the 
whole-tone  scale.  Hurrying  to  a  clamorous  height, 
the  pace  glides  into  a  Movimento  di  Valzer,  in 
massed  volume,  with  the  frolicking  figure  in  festive 
array. 

To  softest  tapping  of  lowest  strings  and  drums,  a 
shadow  of  the  second  figure  passes  here  and  there, 
with  a  flash  of  harp.  Soon,  in  returning  merriment, 
it  is  coursing  in  unison  strings  (against  an  opposite 
motion  in  the  wood). 

At  the  height  of  revel,  as  the  strings  are  holding 
a  trembling  chord,  a  sprightly  Gallic  tune  of  the 
street  pipes  in  the  reed,  with  intermittent  flash  of 
the  harp,  and,  to  be  sure,  an  unfamiliar  tang  of  har- 
monies and  strange  perversions  of  the  tune.*  In 

*"A  la  villette,"  a  popular  song  of  the  Boulevard.  Mr. 
Philip  Hale,  who  may  have  been  specially  inspired,  asso- 
ciates the  aong  with  the  word  "  crapule,"  "  tough,"  as  he 
connects  the  following  revolutionary  aongs,  in  contrapuntal 
use,  with  the  word  "  magister."  "  teacher," — the  idea  of 
the  pedagogue  in  music.  It  mav  be  less  remote  to  find  in 
these  popular  airs  merely  symbols  or  graphic  touches  of  the 
•warming  groups  among  which  the  Devil  plies  his  trade. 
354 


SYMPHONIES  IN  AMERICA 

the  midst  is  the  original  flickering  figure.  As  the 
whole  chorus  is  singing  the  tune  at  the  loudest,  the 
brass  breaks  into  another  traditional  air  of  the 
Bevolutionary  Song  of  1789.*  While  the  trip  is  still 
ringing  in  the  strings,  a  lusty  chorus  breaks  into  the 
song  f  "  La  Carmagnole,"  against  a  blast  of  the  horns 
in  a  guise  of  the  first  motive. 

Grim  guises  of  the  main  figures  (in  inverted  pro- 
file) are  skulking  about  to  uncanny  harmonies.  A 
revel  of  new  pranks  dies  down  to  chords  of  muted 
horns,  amid  flashing  runs  of  the  harp,  with  a  long 
roll  of  drums.  Here  Grave  in  solemn  pace,  violas 
and  bassoon  strike  an  ecclesiastical  incantation,  an- 
swered by  the  organ.  Presently  a  Gregorian  plain 
chant  begins  solemnly  in  the  strings  aided  by  the 
organ  while  a  guise  of  the  second  profane  motive 
intrudes.  Suddenly  in  quick  pace  against  a  fugal 
tread  of  lower  voices,  a  light  skipping  figure  dances 
in  the  high  wood.  And  now  loud  trumpets  are 
saucily  blowing  the  chant  to  the  quick  step,  echoed 
by  the  wood.  And  we  catch  the  wicked  song  of  the 

*  The  famous  "  Ca  ira." 

f  In  the  wealth  of  interesting  detail  furnished  by  Mr. 
Hale  is  the  following :  "  The  Carmagnole  was  first  danced 
in  Paris  about  the  liberty-tree,  and  there  was  then  no 
bloody  suggestion.  .  .  .  The  word  '  Carmagnole '  is 
found  in  English  and  Scottish  literature  as  a  nickname  for 
a  soldier  in  the  French  Revolutionary  army,  and  the  term 
was  applied  by  Burns  to  the  Devil  as  the  author  of  ruin, 
'  that  curst  carmagnole,  auld  Satan.' " 
35$ 


SYMPHONIES  AND  THEIR  MEANING 


(in  the  English  horn)  against  a  legend  of 
hell  iii  lower  voices.* 

In  still  livelier  pace  the  reeds  sound  the  street 
song  against  a  trip  of  strings,  luring  the  other  voice? 
into  a  furious  chorus.  All  at  once,  the  harp  and 
violins  strike  the  midnight  hour  to  a  chord  of  horns. 
while  a  single  impish  figure  dances  here  or  there. 
To  trembling  strings  and  flashing  harp  the  high  reed 
pipes  again  the  song  of  the  Boulevard,  echoed  by 
low  bassoons. 

In  rapidest  swing  the  original  main  motives  now 
sing  a  joint  verse  in  a  kind  of  reprise,  with  the  wild 
shriek  at  the  end  of  the  line,  to  a  final  crashing 
height.  The  end  comes  with  dashes  of  the  harp, 
betwixt  pausing  chords  in  the  high  wood,  with  a 
final  stifled  note. 

*  The  religious  phrases  are  naturally  related  to  the 
"  priest  or  sceptic."  In  the  rapid,  skipping  rhythm,  Mr. 
Hale  finds  the  tarentella  suggested  by  the  "  friend  of  the 
tarantula." 


356 


INDEX 


African  music   (See  Negro) 

America,  music  in,  14,  321  ct  scq.,  330 

American  folk-song,  197  ct  seq.;  symphonies,  321-356 

"  Antar  "  symphony,  by  Rimsky-Korsakow,  155-159 

'•  Apprenti,  Sorcier,  Le  "   (See  Dukas;  see  Goethe) 

Arabian  fairy  lore,  155,  150,  159-1 G3;  melody,  158,  161 

Art,  t;  in  Europe  during  19th  century,  11,  ct  scq. 

Bach,  2,  8,  13,  59,  75.  92,  93,  105,  191,  208,  217.  200,  265 

Balakirew,   144,   140:   Symphony  in  C,  146-155 

'•  Battle  of  the  Huns,"  by  Liszt,  53-58 

Beethoven,  11,  59,  70,  90,  93,  209,  217,  200,  208 

Berlioz,  9,  10,  15-18,  12.3,  202,  288 

Bohemian   music,    143,    189-190,    190   ct   seq.;    symphonies, 

189-207 

Boito's  "  Mefistofele,"  37 
Bossi,  300 

Brahms,  10,  13,  14,  77.  143.  217,  282 
Bruckner,    14,   143,   208-211;    Fourth   Symphony,   211-214; 

Fifth  Symphony.  214,  215-218:  Ninth  Symphony,  216, 

218-229,  243,  260 
Byron's    "  Mazeppa."    39.    45:     ''Manfred,"     125    et    scq.; 

'•  Tasso,"  45 
Burns,   355 

Cacophony,  262,  263,  289,  290,  338.  339     • 

Calais,  H.,  61 

Chadwick,  Suite  symphonique,  342-350 

Chamisseau,  13 

Chausson,  4 

Chopin,  265 

357 


INDEX 

Church  music,  37,  38,  54,  57,  199,  356 

Classic  music,  7  et  seq.,  12 

Counterpoint. (See  Polyphony),  172,  244,  263 

"  Creation,"  by  Haydn,  209 

Criticism,  1,  2,  3,  209 

"  Danse  Macabre,"  by  Saint-Saens,  GO  ct  seq. 

"  Dante,"  See  Divina  Commedia 

"Dante,"  symphony  of  Liszt,  12,  132    (See  28  et  seq.) 

"  Death  and  Transfiguration,"  by  Strauss,  44,  203  et  seq.; 

poem  by  Ritter,  271-273 
Debussy,  91  et  seq.;  "  The  Sea,"  97  et  seq.;  harmony,  95-97; 

and  Wagner,  96,  97 

Descriptive  music    (See  Program  Music) 
D'Indy,  Second  Symphony,  82  et  seq.,  244 
"  Divina  Commedia "  of  Dante,   28   et  seq.;   symphony   of 

Liszt,  28  et  seq. 

Domestic  Symphony  of  Strauss,  288-298 
"  Don  Giovanni,"  by  Mozart,  209 
"Don  Juan,"  by  Strauss,  273-278;    poem  by  Lenau,  273- 

274 

Dukas,  4;  "The  Sorcerer's  Apprentice,"  106-113 
DvOrfik,  44,  190,  191;  "New  World"  symphony,  195-207 

Klgar,  symphony  in  A-flat,  308-320 
English  symphony,  An,  308-320 
"  Eulenspiegel  "   (See  "  Till  ") 

"Faust,"  tragedy  by  Goethe,  13,  129;  symphony  of  Liszt, 

12,  16,  44,  126,  132    (See  Vol.  II) 
Fetis,  95 

Finnish  music,  114,  143;  symphony,  A,  178-188 
"  Flying  Dutchman,"  by  Wagner,  94 
Folk-song   (See  national  element),  A,  190  et  seq.,  195  et 

seq.,  207 
Foote,  4 
Form,  282 

358 


INDEX 

Foster,  Stephen,  198 

Franck,  72  et  seq.;  symphony  in  D  minor,  75  et  aeq. 

Francke,  Kuno,  231 

French,  modern  school,  8,  9,  95  et  seq,  253,  321,  330,  337, 

340,  347 
Frenssen,  13 
Freytag,  13 
Fux,  95 


Gade,  4   (See  Vol.  II) 

Gelder,  Martinus  van,  4 

German   art,   modern.   12-14.   217-218;    music,  modern,   14, 

143,  230 

Gilchrist,  321    (See  Vol..  II) 
Glazounow,  3 
Gluck,  94 
Goethe,    2,    11,    13.    4o :    "The   Sorcerer's   Apprentice,"    106 

et  seq.,  231 

Graphic  music   (See  Program  music) 
Grieg,  72 

Hadley,  Symphony  No.  3,  321-329 

Hale,  Philip,  231,  354,  355,  356 

Harmony,    73,   95    et    seq.,    262,    338-339    (See    Scale;    see 

French  modern  school) 

"  Heldenleben,"  by  Strauss,  44   (See  Vol.  II) 
"  Heldenlied,"  by  Dvorak,  44 
Heine,  13 
"Hercules,  The  Youth  of,"  by  Saint-Saens,  65  et  seq.   (See 

"  Omphale  " ) 
Hoffniansthal,  13 
Hucbald,  91 

Hugo,  Victor,  39 ;  "  Mazeppa  "  poem,  50  et  seq. 
Hungarian  music,  46,  47,  48,  52,  189,  198 
"  Huns,  Battle  of  the,"  53  et  seq. 


INDEX 

••  Ideul.-,"  by  Liszt,  39 

I  Mil  I  HI  II  Kill  11.      13 

Innovators  in  art,  15  ct  scq.,  01  et  scq. 

Indy,  D'  (See.  D'Indy) 

Italian  music,  299,  300;   symphonies,  299  ct  scq, 

"  .(<-n imp  d'Arc,"  by  Moskowski,  3 
"  Juan,  Don  "  (See  "  Don  ") 

Kallinikow,  3 
Kaulbach,  53 
Keller,  Gottfried,  13 
Kleist,  230 

Korsakow  (See  Rimsky) 
Kretsehmar,  48 

I. .;  HIM  it  in« .   "  Miditations  fnn'tiqucgt"  41 

Lenau,  273,  274 

Leasing,  201 

Liszt,  9,   10,  11,   12,  15-18,  GO,  75,  114,  120,  132,  215,  ur,2r 

204;    symphony   to  Dante's   "  Divina  Commedin.      Jh- 

38;  symphonic  poems,  39-58 

IxH-ffler,  (.  >L,  "La  Villanelle  dii  Diable,"  351-350 
"  Lohengrin,"  by  Wagner,  94 
Longfellow's   translation    of    the    "  Divina    Com  media."    :<l 

ft  *fq. 

"  Mab,  Queen,"  Sc-herzo  of  Berlioz,  24  et  seq. 

MaoDowell,  321 

Madura  as  a  subject  in  art,  231  it  seq. 

Mahlir.   13,   143,  243;  Fifth  Symphony,  243-200 

"  Manfred"   music  of   Schumann.   115,    125,    127;    poem  of 

Byron,   125  et  «eq.;  symphony  of  Tschaikowsky.   123- 

132 

Martucci.  .symphony  in  D  minor,  301-307 
SOO 


INDEX 

'•  Mazeppa,"  poem  of  Hugo,  50  et  seq.;  symphonic  poem  of 

Liszt,  39,  44,  49  et  seq. 
Mendelssohn,   10,   10,  40,   190 
Milton,  28 
Modulation,  75,  10 
"  Moldau  Kiver,  The,"  symphonic  poem  by  Smetanu,   190- 

195 

Montevcrde,  208 
Moskowski,   3 
Mozart,  92,  93,   144,  274,  200 

National  clement  in  music,  2,  3,  10,  14.  114.  143  ct  seq., 
178,  179,  189  ct  seq.,  19.">  ct  seq.,  109,  299.  300;  schools 
of  music.  7-9,  14,  14.1! 

Neo-Ilussians,  143  ct  seq. 

'•  New  World,"  symphony  by  Dvorak,  19f>-207 

'•  Nibelungen  Ring,''  by  Wanner,  12 

Nietzsche,    12 

•;  Omphale,  Spinning  Wheel  of,"  by  Saint-Saens,  09  ct  seq. 
Orchestration,  244 

Paine,  4 

'•Parsifal,"  by  Wagner,  13 

Pentatonic  scale,  199 

'•  Penthesilea,"  symphonic  poem  by  Wolff,  231-242;  tragedy 

by  Kleist,  231-230 
Peri,  91,  93 

Phaeton,  by  Saint-Saens,  03-65 
Pohlig,  Carl,  44 

Polyphony,   171-173    (See  Counterpoint,  220) 
Popular  songs,  354 
Preludes,  Les,  by  Lamartine,  41 ;   music  by  Liszt,  39,  41 

et  seq. 
Program  music,  17,  18,   19-27.  29  et  seq.,  39  et  seq.,  279, 

288,  289,  290 

361 


INDEX 

"  Queen  Mab,"  Scherzo  of  Berlioz,  24  et  seq. 

Rachmaninow,   164;   Symphony  in  E  minor,    1G4-177 

Raff,  52 

Rameau,  95 

Reger,  243 

Rimsky-Korsakow,     155;     *'  Antar "    symphony,     155-1. ~>9: 

"  SchCrezade,"  symphonic  suite,    159-163 
Ritter,  271 
Rollinat,  351 

"Romantic"  symphony    (See  Bruckner) 
Romanticist  poetry,  231 
"Romeo    and    Juliet,"    Overture    of    Tschaikowsky,    115; 

Symphony  of  Berlioz,  19-27 
Russian    (See  Neo- Russians) 

Saint-Saens,  8,  44;  symphonic  poems,  59  et  seq. 

Scale  of  whole  tones,  73;  of  five  tones,  199  et  seq.;  church 

modes,  195  et  seq. 
Scandinavian  music,  143 

"  8ch6rtaade,"  symphonic  suite  (See  Rimsky-Korsakow ) 
Schnitzler,  13 
Schopenhauer,   12 
Schubert,  2,  52,  208 

Schumann,  9,  10,  13,  16,  59,  82,  125,  127,  132,  165,  263 
Sennkowsky,   155 

Sgambati,  Symphony  in  D,  300-301 
Shakespeare,  2,  18 

Sibelius,  178;  Symphony  No.  1,  178-188 
Sinigaglia,  300 

"  Sinfonia  Domestica  "    (See  Strauss) 
Strauss,  14,  77,  261-298 
Strube,  Symphony  in  E  minor,  329-342 
Sudermann,  13 
Suk,  4 

Symphonic  poem.  9;  of  Liszt,  39-58;  of  Saint-Saens,  59-71 
Symphony,  2,  9  et  seq.,  15-16 


INDEX 

"  Tannhauser,"  by  Wagner,  94 

"Tasso,"  drama  by  Goethe,  45;  poem  by  Byron,  45;  sym- 
phonic poem  by  Liszt,  44  et  seq. 

Tschaikowsky,  16,  17,  114-116;  Fourth  Symphony,  115, 
116-125;  "Manfred"  symphony,  125-132;  Fifth  Sym- 
phony, 132-142;  "  I'athetique,"  symphony,  16,  144  (See 
Vol.  II) 

Thematic  treatment  170,  172.  173,  210,  212,  214,  217,  220, 
263-265,  310,  330,  340,  341 

Tennyson,  43 

"Till  Eulenspiegel,"  280  ct  seq.;  music  by  Strauss,  262, 
278-288 

"  Tod  und  Verklarung/'  by  Strauss,  44.  263  et  seq. 

Tonality,  73,  75,  76,  331 

"Tristan  und  Isolde"  by  Wagner,  11.  12,  13 

Unfinished  symphony,  by  Schubert,  4 

"Villanelle   du   Diable,   La."    poem   by   Rollinat,   351-352; 

music  by  Loeffler,  351-350 
Volbach,  4,  44 
Volkmann,  4 

Wagner,  10-14,  16,  40,  72,  75,  94-97,  114,  210,  215-218, 
226,  228,  262,  264,  265 

Wolff,  Hugo,  30;  "  Penthesilea,"  231-242:  "Italian  Sere- 
nade," 230 

"Youth  of  Hercules,"  by  Saint-Saens.  65-69 


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